Aníron Algarbach
by Meril Gamgee
Summary: A doomed couple meet and fall in love, but their love is forbidden he is Elven, she is human. More tragedy befalls Imladris, and a long buried secret is revealed too late. COMPLETE.
1. Discovery

A/N: Hi! This story was conceived after reading the Silmarillion and deciding that, for once, the Elf in Elf/Human relationships should be male. As such, the main characters in this story are original, with some existing characters supporting.  
Disclaimer: Names and places you recognise belong to Tolkien, not mine, names you don't recognise belong to me, blah blah blah. Enjoy!  
  
Spring, 2455 TA  
  
Beleglor, an Elf of Mirkwood, was taking his daily walk around the grand halls in which his King, Thranduil, lived.  
Beleglor was a minstrel, proficient with his voice and a harp, sometimes called in to the King's service, such was his ability. He lived alone in a small house, near the Elf-Path. He had not yet taken a wife, but he was not yet looking for one, either.  
As he passed the front gate of the halls, he heard a strange sound. It was a cry, loud and anguished. Pressed by curiosity, he moved further to the source.  
He found a bundle, wrapped in a blanket. He undid the blanket somewhat and peeped in. It was a crying baby.  
He undid the blanket more, and found a note:  
  
To the Elves of Mirkwood,  
This is my daughter, whom I have named Ilirdin, which means 'hunter' in our tongue. I am forced to entrust her to your care. Her father was killed in a skirmish, while I must flee my ravaged homeland and fly elsewhere.  
Both her father and I are of the Dúnedain, and I hope that you can teach her to be fair, noble and wise, and give her a better life than Rangers can provide.  
  
Beleglor picked the child up and cradled her in his arms, whereupon she stopped crying immediately. She opened her eyes, of pure emerald, and looked at him. He was overcome in his heart by love, and he gently stroked the babe's cheek.  
'Well, Ilirdin,' he said softly. 'You shall become my child. I name you Farothwen - hunter maiden.' 


	2. Transition

2495 TA  
  
Forty years had passed, and Farothwen had grown into a strong, skilled and fair maiden. She was acquainted with all areas of Elven knowledge, and her father Beleglor made sure she knew as much as he could teach her about her own race, the last descendants of Elros.  
She was openly shunned by some of the Elves of Mirkwood, who did not believe in any sort of Elf-Man relations. She knew that, when she was ready, she would have to leave this land, her home, and find her own kin. But, however, she was still not ready. Indeed, she was still very young, both by Elven and Dúnedain standards.  
Beleglor had just started weapons training. Farothwen was showing great promise with both bow and sword, but her favourite weapons were two long knives she carried on her belt.  
Keeping with his trade, Beleglor had also taught his daughter to sing. She had a sweet singing voice, and sometimes he would not sing at all, preferring to play his harp and listen to his beloved daughter.  
Her ability was so renowned that King Thranduil had asked her to perform at his next banquet, on the night of the new moon, which was only a week away. 


	3. Meeting

New moon night  
  
Farothwen nervously smoothed her emerald green dress that her father picked for her, 'to match your eyes,' he said.  
Her auburn hair flowed in loose waves to her waist. She looked over at her father, who wore an outfit of similar colour to hers, his blonde hair past his shoulders, his bright blue eyes piercing through her façade of confidence.  
'I know you are worried, Farothwen. I know I was the first time I performed for the King. But you will be fine.'  
'Will I, Ada?'  
'You will, trust me.'  
Farothwen sighed and looked outside. The sun was setting in the distance. She did not want to leave these beloved lands to find her kin, but she had to one day. If only there was a reason to stay…  
She fastened the clasp of her riding cloak around her neck and drew her hood. She followed her father to the stables where she mounted her mare Rochtári and rode to the halls of Thranduil.  
They were received by the King's servants and brought to the feast hall, where everyone was to be seated. As they arrived, other guests were arriving also. People Farothwen recognised were mainly advisors to Thranduil and the guardians of Prince Legolas.  
Soon everyone was there, and Farothwen nervously started singing her songs - mostly traditional lays. One of the songs her father had taught her was in the traditional Wood-Elf language of Nandorin. As she sang it solo, she heard a low but sweet voice singing along - and she knew it was not her father. She subtly scanned the crowd until she found the mystery singer. She laid her eyes upon an Elf in the back corner. She was nearly struck dumb.  
He had long golden hair that shone like the sun itself, and blue eyes so brilliant their sparkle mirrored the Silmarils, to Farothwen. His lips followed hers, singing the exact same words. She was entranced, and she could not look away from him.  
He seemed equally entranced and did not break away from her. Farothwen only averted her eyes when she had finished her song and her father grabbed her arm.  
'What, Ada?'  
'Come, let us sit down,' Beleglor repeated. 'What were you staring at?'  
'Nothing,' Farothwen replied.  
The King's own musicians had taken over, and Beleglor and Farothwen had taken the opportunity to sit down and eat. Farothwen's throat was parched.  
She ate some fruit, and drank some wine to moisten her throat. Beleglor had left the table to talk to some other Elves. One Farothwen recognised was Hirogaer, senior advisor to the King.  
Farothwen drank once again from her goblet and turned to face the crowd of Elves dancing in the hall. She didn't see one of them walk over to her until he was right in front of her. She looked up at him. It was the Elf she saw when she was singing her Nandorin lay.  
'Care to dance?' he asked, offering his hand.  
Farothwen was suddenly struck by a flash of boldness. 'I do not dance with strange Elves.'  
The Elf laughed. 'I am called Glorohtar. What is your name?'  
'Farothwen,' she replied.  
'Such an inappropriate name for a minstrel,' Glorohtar replied. 'I have never heard an Elf sing so beautifully.'  
Farothwen lowered her head, then looked back up at Glorohtar, her emerald eyes meeting his sapphire ones. 'Do I look like an Elf?'  
'You are much more than an Elf.'  
She snorted. 'How can the looks of a human be rated over that of an Elf?'  
Glorohtar smiled. 'I just wanted a dance, not a political discussion. Will you oblige me?'  
Farothwen sighed inaudibly and took Glorohtar's hand. He led her out to all the other Elven couples.  
'There, that was not so hard, was it?'  
Farothwen felt extremely self-conscious, as she always did, being the only dark-headed maiden in a whole room of Woodlanders. Yet another sharp reminder of what she really was.  
Her father had tried to keep her away from the other Elves. She had had a few bad experiences when she was a child of other Elves abusing her because she was human. Beleglor had tried to keep her from forming relationships with any other Elves than him, in order to make it easier for her to leave him when the time came. But he knew that the time would not come for some years yet, for her race of people lived thrice as long as other Men.   
Farothwen knew her father loved her, and she couldn't blame him for what he was trying to do, but she craved contact with other Elves and yearned for companionship. Yet she was deathly aware of how these Elves saw her. They hated all strangers, especially humans. They disapproved strongly of any Elven contact with humans, and Farothwen knew that some begged Beleglor to leave her to die when she was a baby. She was raised as an Elf, and she considered herself an Elf, but she could never be an Elf.  
Glorohtar's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.  
'What?' she asked.  
'I asked if you were any good with a bow.'  
'Somewhat. I have not yet completed my training.'  
'Would you like me to teach you?'  
Farothwen's eyes lit up. 'If my father approves.'  
'Let me ask him.'  
Glorohtar dropped her hands and went to speak to Beleglor. Farothwen could see that her father looked apprehensive. She gave him her best pleading look, knowing he could not resist her eyes. She watched him nod in agreement. She grinned as Glorohtar returned to her.  
'We start tomorrow,' he said. 'Meet me at lunch tomorrow, at the Great Tree.'  
The Great Tree was a tree that grew near the Halls, and it was taller than all others. 


	4. Lesson

The next day  
Farothwen met Glorohtar at the Great Tree, ready with her well-worn bow and arrows.  
'Let me look at your bow,' Glorohtar said. 'The best warriors must have the best bows.'  
He examined the bow and tutted. 'How old is this bow? It is well past its time.' Glorohtar peeked at her quiver. 'The arrows too. Farothwen, I have something for you.'  
He handed her an ebony bow with green leaves all over the grip. There were matching arrows with silver heads and green feathers.  
'These are for you.'  
Farothwen gasped. 'For me?'  
Glorohtar smiled. 'I got here early, I had some time to spare, so I made you a bow.'  
Farothwen examined it closely. 'It is not strung,' she said.  
'Oh, one more thing.' Glorohtar reached over and plucked a hair from Farothwen's head and used it to string the bow.  
'There.'  
Farothwen was impressed. She bowed her head. 'I'm sorry for being rude to you last night. I should not have been.'  
Glorohtar smiled. 'I understand your hostility. You have been accorded many injustices by my people, and I must be the one to apologise.'  
Farothwen smiled shyly. 'Don't feel the need to apologise. You cannot help what your people think of me.'  
Glorohtar's brow furrowed. 'You seem uneasy. Do not be. I won't bite.'  
Farothwen smiled slightly. 'It's just... you are the first Elf I have ever spoken to properly apart from my father.'  
'Really? Has he kept you locked away all these years?'  
'No, it's just because no one wants to talk to me because I am human.'  
'That hardly seems fair.'  
'No, it's not.'   
Glorohtar stood up. 'Come on, it is time to start your training. Have you had any experience with a bow?'  
Farothwen nodded. 'My father says I am very skilled.'  
Glorohtar smiled. 'Well, let us just see how good you are. Stationary targets first.'  
Farothwen put her new arrows in her quiver and then took one out. 'Where?'  
Glorohtar pointed upwards on the tree. 'Just above that squirrel's hole.'  
'All right.' Farothwen notched her arrow, aimed carefully and fired. She missed the tree altogether and was a metre too high.  
Glorohtar chuckled. 'Maybe a minstrel should not teach the use of a bow.'  
'Hey! That's my father you are talking about!'  
'I meant no offence, come on. Maybe we should try something a bit easier, start back at the beginning. Come on, let me show you a proper stance.'  
He pulled her left arm up so her bow was in its proper position. 'Your left arm needs to be straight out, as far as you can.' He pulled her right arm up to the string and moulded her fingers around it and drew it back. 'The string needs to be near your face, high up. Yes, that's right.'  
He put his hands on her hips and gently rotated her away from him. 'You need to be standing side on. Back straight, that's it.'  
He put his hand over her left hand and gently moved it down the bow. 'Your hand is too high, use the grip I made you, that's what it is there for.' He retrieved her arrow from the scrub in the distance. It was some time before he returned, shaking his head.  
'You have some power, Farothwen. This was a hundred yards away. Once we get your aim fixed, you will be quite good. But not as good as me,' he grinned.  
Farothwen chuckled. 'Well, once you have taught me everything, I challenge you to a contest, then we can see who is the best.'  
Glorohtar grinned. 'You're on. Once you are finished.' He put the arrow on the bow and covered Farothwen's hand with his, pulling it back.. He put his left hand over hers, aiming it for her.  
'Try again.'  
He removed his hands and Farothwen fired. She hit the target perfectly, the green-feathered arrow sticking straight out of the tree. Glorohtar applauded.  
'Well done.' He jumped up the tree and loosed the arrow, letting it fall to the ground. Farothwen picked it up and put it in her quiver.  
'Your father was right. You show great promise.'  
'Thank you. Same time tomorrow?'  
'Indeed.' 


	5. Confession

Two months later  
Farothwen sat at home. She hadn't met Glorohtar for her daily lessons for a few days because she claimed she was sick. In a way this lie was true. She was sick - with love.  
She had taken leave of her senses and fallen in love with him. But she was hurting. She knew that they could never be together. These people hated her enough, she didn't need them to hate her any more for falling in love with one of their own.  
She had cried a couple of times, cursing her heart for wanting something she could not have. This was a major part of her decision to fly from Mirkwood and find her kin.  
Her father doubted in his heart she was ready, but he could not stop her. She had been packing up for some time, but she could not leave Glorohtar without saying goodbye to him. She owed him that, at least.  
She met him the next day at the Great Tree, at the usual time.  
'Hello,' she said uneasily.  
He looked up. 'Hello,' he said casually. 'Are you feeling better?'  
She nodded. 'Glorohtar, I...' the words got stuck in her throat. 'I am leaving.'  
His face fell. 'Why, Farothwen?' He looked at her, pleading in his eyes.  
'Please Glorohtar... Don't make this any harder than it is.'  
'Then why are you leaving? I don't want you to leave.'  
'I have to leave.'  
'Why? You are still young. There is still a lot for you here.'  
'I desire what I cannot have. There is nothing for me here.'  
'What do you desire, Farothwen?'  
Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at Glorohtar. 'You. I am in love with you, Glorohtar.'  
There was a long silence. Farothwen bowed her head. 'I'm sorry. I will go now.'  
Glorohtar took her arm. 'Stay, please. Stay here. I don't want you to leave.'  
'Give me one good reason why I should stay.'  
He sighed. 'Because I love you.'  
Farothwen gasped. 'You love me?'  
Glorohtar nodded. 'More than anything.'  
'But... I am human, you are Elven.'   
Glorohtar shook his head.   
'I don't care.' He took her in his arms. 'I do not care what's in the past. All that matters is you, Farothwen.'  
To her surprise, Glorohtar kissed her. When he let her go, he looked at her.  
'Will you stay?'  
She nodded. 'I would do anything for you, Glorohtar.'  
He smiled and gathered her in his arms again.  
'I do not know what I would do if I lost you, Farothwen. Please don't ever leave me.'  
'I will not Glorohtar. I won't ever leave you.' 


	6. Competition

Farothwen and Glorohtar kept their romance under wraps for the coming months because if word got out they would both be doomed. Glorohtar was especially worried about his father, who hated all humans. They achieved this by sneaking out at night to see each other.  
Soon, the time came for Farothwen and Glorohtar's archery contest, as her training was complete. A small smattering of curious Elves turned up to see it. Farothwen and Glorohtar had offered to set up the targets while the crowd was waiting impatiently to be seated at the outdoor arena.  
As they were waiting, Beleglor's friend Galadhdil turned to him and said, 'What is taking so long?'  
Beleglor shrugged. 'I don't know. I will go and check. Just tell everyone to wait.'  
As he walked towards the arena, he heard Glorohtar and Farothwen's voices.  
'I think they are noticing us being away for so long,' Farothwen said.  
Beleglor heard Glorohtar laugh. 'It doesn't matter. The more time I spend with you, the better.'  
'But we spend every spare moment together anyway.'  
Beleglor thought about this. Now he knew why Farothwen was going out with Rochtári at night. But why was she close to Glorohtar? He thought that he was Farothwen's only friend.  
'So?' Glorohtar asked, mischief evident in his voice. 'You know I can't get enough of you, my mormír.'  
'Your dark jewel?'  
'Fine, my morloth.'  
'Your dark flower?'  
'All right, my morgil.'  
'Your dark star?'  
'Oh, come here, you.'  
Farothwen giggled as Glorohtar pulled her close. When Beleglor finally caught sight of them, they were in a passionate embrace.  
Beleglor loudly and deliberately cleared his throat. Farothwen and Glorohtar sprang apart.  
'Ada!'  
Beleglor carried on as if nothing had happened.  
'Are you ready?'  
Farothwen nodded. 'Yes, we are ready, Ada.'  
The competition was actually more than archery - it also included sword fighting and knife fighting, at Beleglor's request, since he wanted his daughter to know it all.  
The archery competition was first. They had just five arrows each, with targets at five different distances. They easily got the bullseye for the first three distances, but Farothwen had difficulty with the fourth distance, but she made the shot. When it came to the fifth distance, she was in trouble. She simply could not see that far, as her human eyes could not contend with Elven eyes. She just guessed where the bullseye was and fired. She just missed it. Glorohtar was leading her so far.  
The next round was a sword fight. Neither of them were very confident with a sword, but they were both able. The fight ended with a stalemate, as neither could get an advantage.  
Farothwen was exhausted, but she still wanted to complete the knife round. Glorohtar was still leading.  
The first half of the knife round was a throwing contest. The first part consisted of stationary targets, which both did equally well in. The moving targets were a bigger challenge.  
Beleglor, who acted as officiator, tossed two apples into the air. Both knives pierced the apples, but Farothwen scored an extra point because she pinned hers to a tree.  
The last contest was a no-holds-barred knife duel. This is what most of the Elves present had come to see, as they heard the human was exceptional with her knives.  
As they stood, ready to fight, Glorohtar noticed Farothwen looked spent, which she was, from the physical and mental exertion.  
'Do you want to stop?'  
'No. I want to beat you first.'  
He smiled. 'Good girl.'  
Beleglor gave the word and they started, the pair of knives they held clashing so furiously they were almost causing sparks. The fight went on for a long time, much to the crowd's delight. Glorohtar had a physical advantage over Farothwen was he was taller, but she was his equal in skill.  
In one furious maneuver, Glorohtar knocked a knife out of Farothwen's left hand. She fought on, not daunted by the fact that she was effectively one-handed. Soon enough, she knocked the knife out of his left hand. They were now on equal terms.  
Farothwen was tired, and she wanted to go home, so she decided to end the match quickly. Faster than he could anticipate, Farothwen knocked the knife out of his right hand, leaving him unarmed. She then grabbed his neck with her left hand, pushed him to his knees and held her knife to his throat. The crowd went wild as she was declared the winner.  
Glorohtar smiled at her. 'Go home and rest. You deserve it, my morfaroth.' Dark hunter.  
'Farothwen? Glorohtar? Can I talk to you?' Beleglor asked as the Elves filed out of the arena. Farothwen furrowed her brow.  
'Yes, Ada,' Both she and Glorohtar went over to Beleglor. He spoke in a conspirital tone.  
'Now, what I saw before...'  
Farothwen bowed her head.  
'No, my love, I am not angry with you or Glorohtar.'  
'You're not, Ada?'  
'No, but listen to me carefully, both of you. You are taking a huge risk, being together. These sort of relationships are unheard of, and both of you could be in danger. I do not want this to be a passing phase.' He turned to Glorohtar. 'Do you love my daughter?'  
He nodded. 'More than anything.'  
Beleglor turned to Farothwen. 'Do you love Glorohtar?'  
'With all my heart.'  
Beleglor sighed. 'I just want to know you are doing this for the right reasons. But I trust both of you, and please, be careful.' He kissed Farothwen's forehead. Beleglor turned to Glorohtar.  
'I guess this makes you my son,' he grinned. He kissed Glorohtar's forehead. 'Please look after her.'  
Glorohtar nodded. 'I will, Father.'  
'Go on, off you both go. I daresay you both need to rest.'  
'How well do you think I went, Ada?' Farothwen asked.  
'My dear Farothwen,' he smiled. You truly are a hunter maiden, you did brilliantly.'  
She smiled. 'Thank you, Ada.' 


	7. Binding

The next night  
Farothwen and Glorohtar met for their nightly tryst. Glorohtar met her, grinning broadly as they kissed.  
'Why are you so happy?' Farothwen asked.  
'Because tonight is a special night.'  
'Why?'  
'Come with me and I will show you.'  
He took her hand and led her into the trees. Eventually they came to the side of a lake that Farothwen never knew existed. The sky was clear of trees, and the heavens were visible, the stars and Moon twinkling in the velvet skies. The moonlight was shining upon the lake, the waters reflecting it, making the lovers' faces shimmer.  
'This is beautiful,' Farothwen breathed. 'Why have you brought me here?'  
Glorohtar took a deep breath and took her hands in his.  
'Because, tonight... I want you to become my wife.'  
Farothwen gasped. Her face then broke out into a grin. 'Yes.'  
Glorohtar sighed. 'I wish the whole of Arda could know that we are husband and wife, but we have to just swear to each for now. Will you?'   
Farothwen nodded. 'I will.'  
'All right, I will go first.' Glorohtar looked at Farothwen, the water's reflected moonlight dancing across her auburn locks and alabaster skin. He had never seen her look so beautiful. The Valar couldn't have made a more lovely night for him. He took a deep breath.  
'With Ilúvatar and Manwë as my witnesses, I swear to be true to you, Farothwen, taking you as my wife. I will be faithful, devoted, and caring, and I will love you for the many happy years we will spend together on this earth.'  
Glorohtar noticed tears welling in Farothwen's eyes as she went to speak.   
'With Ilúvatar and Manwë as my witnesses, I swear to be true to you, Glorohtar, taking you as my husband. I will be loyal, I will cherish you, and I will remain with you and love you no matter what happens, for the rest of my life.'  
A tear made its way down her cheek. Glorohtar gently wiped it away and smiled.   
'My beautiful wife.'  
He gently kissed her, sealing their vow. 


	8. Imprisonment

Hirogaer, Glorohtar's father and senior advisor to Thranduil, sat at home, waiting for his son. Of a suspicious nature, he followed his son that night to see where he was going, only to see him with that... human. He lay in wait for him. He heard him enter the house.  
'Father! What are you doing here?'  
'Oh, I just wanted to talk to you. Where were you just now?'  
'I.. was just out with some of my friends.'  
Hirogaer smiled. 'That's strange. I could have sworn I saw you at the lake with that...' the anger in his voice was barely disguised, 'human scum, Farothwen, or whatever that fool Beleglor named her.'  
Glorohtar froze. He never dreamed his father would find out. What would he do to him? What would he do to Farothwen? No... I cannot keep living in fear like this. I must defend her.  
'Well, you are right, Father,' Glorohtar replied coolly. 'You did see my wife and I.'  
'Your wife? She is your wife? And who bore witness to this "marriage"?'  
'Ilúvatar and Manwë,' Glorohtar shot back. 'And you cannot do anything about it. I love her, and you can't stop us being together.'  
'Oh, I can't, can I? Well!' Hirogaer grabbed his son by the arm and pulled him so hard that he left marks on his arm, and threw him into his bedroom. He proceeded to lock his door from the outside with multiple locks.   
Glorohtar banged on the door and shouted, 'Father! Let me out! I swear I will kill you if you do anything to Farothwen!'  
Hirogaer shouted in reply, 'I would like to see you try anything.'  
Glorohtar's bangs and shouts ceased after a few hours. 


	9. Flight

The Next Day  
Hirogaer approached Beleglor's house and knocked on the door. Farothwen opened the door. Hirogaer politely smiled.  
'Hello, little mistress. Is your father home?'  
'No, my lord.'  
'That is all right. I wanted to talk to you. May I come in?'  
'Of course, my lord.'  
'Thank you.'  
Farothwen seated Hirogaer at the kitchen table.  
'Would you like some tea?'  
'No, thank you. I just wanted to talk to you about my son Glorohtar.'  
Farothwen froze. What does he know?  
'He tells me that you two are "together".'  
Farothwen tried to look confused. 'No, my lord.'  
Without warning, Hirogaer struck Farothwen across the cheek, sending her to the floor.  
'Don't lie to me, you little fool! I saw you two last night! Now, I am asking you again: are you "married"?'  
Farothwen's lower lip was quivering and she was on the verge of tears. 'No, my lord,' she said in a small voice.  
He struck her again. 'Don't lie! I am giving you one last chance! Are you two married?'  
'Yes,' she whimpered.  
'Well, you're not any more,' he said cruelly. 'What makes you think he truly loves you? He doesn't, you know. He just says he does to torment you, you pathetic human.'  
'He loves me,' Farothwen whimpered.  
'He doesn't,' Hirogaer replied. And I'd advise you stay away from him, or I will kill you myself. Now, I will give you the rest of the day to leave, and I hope to never see you again within these borders. Good day.'  
Hirogaer left the house, leaving the bruised and shocked Farothwen on the kitchen floor. An hour later, Hirogaer watched her leave with her daggers and the bow and quiver Glorohtar made for her strapped to her back, riding away on Rochtári, her black riding cloak flaring out behind her. Hirogaer chuckled silently as he watched her go out of sight. His task was complete. As she disappeared, Beleglor approached the house. 


	10. Loss

A/N: PLEASE forgive my tardiness! Some unfortunate circumstances led to my net being cut off for six weeks, so I've not been able to post any more new chapters. But I'm back for good, and everything's going well. I'm really glad that you all are enjoying this fic. I have you like it half as much as I did writing it ;)  
  
On with the show!  
  
Beleglor approached his house, surprised to see Hirogaer standing outside with a smug look on his face.  
  
'Hirogaer, what are you doing here?'  
  
'Good day to you too, Beleglor. I just came here to talk to your daughter.'  
  
'What could you want with Farothwen?'  
  
'I just had to talk to her concerning her and my son.'  
  
Anger flashed in Beleglor's eyes. 'Where is she?'  
  
'Gone,' Hirogaer replied nonchalantly. 'To find her kin, where she belongs.'  
  
'What did you do to her?' Beleglor growled.  
  
'Nothing,' Hirogaer said. 'I told her the truth about what my son truly thinks of her.'  
  
'Oh yes? What is the "truth"?'  
  
Hirogaer snorted. 'Do you really believe that Glorohtar is in love with that piece of waste you call your daughter? Even my son wouldn't be that stupid.'  
  
Beleglor was barely able to contain his anger. 'Where is he?'  
  
'At home. You know, Beleglor, this is for the best. You should have heeded my advice when she was an infant. You should have killed her when you had the chance. I told you from the beginning she'd be nothing but trouble. Humans should never have entered these borders. You should have given her to me, I would have killed her if you couldn't have done it yourself.'  
  
'You are talking about my daughter, Hirogaer!' Beleglor exploded. 'I am not like you!'  
  
Beleglor reach out and punched Hirogaer on the left side of the face, knocking him to the ground.  
  
'Go,' Beleglor thundered. 'Leave my property! And if I find my daughter dead or dying in the wilderness, I will hold you personally responsible!'  
  
Hirogaer smirked. 'If you do, it will not be a significant loss to the world. In fact, the Elves of Mirkwood will benefit.'  
  
Beleglor took out one of his knives and held it to Hirogaer's throat.  
  
'I swear to Ilúvatar that if I see you here again, I will kill you, senior advisor to Thranduil or not, I do not care. Get away from me, my house, and my daughter.'  
  
'Fine.' Hirogaer turned his back and left without another word. 


	11. Liberation

Beleglor sat in his house, silently seething after having satisfyingly broken a few glasses against the wall. Ilúvatar knew where Farothwen was now. She had never left Mirkwood and she had no idea where she was going. Beleglor was desperately worried about her, both in her physical and mental state. What did that mongrel tell her? Damn that Glorohtar. I should never have let it happen. To think I called him my son...  
  
Beleglor decided it was wise to see Glorohtar in the morning because, hopefully, the urge to kill him would have disappeared.  
  
The next day  
  
Beleglor calmly approached Hirogaer's house. He made sure Hirogaer was out, as he didn't really want to talk to him. Glorohtar was alone in the house.  
  
Beleglor knocked loudly on the door. 'Glorohtar? Let me in, I want to talk to you.' There was no answer.  
  
Beleglor moved around the side of the house. 'Glorohtar?'  
  
'I'm here!' was the faint reply. Beleglor moved closer to the sound.  
  
'Beleglor! Thank Eru you are here!'  
  
'Thank Eru I'm here? Let me in, I want to talk to you!'  
  
'I can't.'  
  
'Why?'  
  
'My father has locked me in my room.'  
  
'Why?'  
  
'So I can't see Farothwen. Where is she?'  
  
'Glorohtar, she - she ran away.'  
  
'What did he do to her?' Glorohtar sounded furious.  
  
'I do not know. He probably told her what he told me.'  
  
'What did he say?'  
  
'He said that you did not love her. Is that true?'  
  
Glorohtar sounded upset. 'You know it's not! You know I love her, Father!' He sighed. 'You probably do not know this.'  
  
'Know what?'  
  
'Father, we are... we are married. My father is doing everything he can to keep us apart. I wish I could get out of here, find her.'  
  
Beleglor was silent.  
  
'Beleglor?'  
  
'I am here, Glorohtar. I am just figuring out how to get you out.'  
  
'My father is leaving on a journey in two days' time, at midday. Come then, and I will look for her.'  
  
Beleglor sighed. 'Yes, Glorohtar. I am very sorry I doubted you, my son.'  
  
'That is all right, Father. All I am worried about now is my wife.'  
  
'I will make all the arrangements, just wait for me,' Beleglor said.  
  
Two days later  
  
Mid-morning, Beleglor got some packs and filled them up with supplies - food, clothing, weapons. He went out to the stables, where his horse, Rochatar, father of Rochtári, was held. He was going to give Rochatar to Glorohtar for his journey.  
  
When it was time, Beleglor quietly walked Rochatar to Hirogaer's house. He hid himself and the bay horse behind some bushes and he watched Hirogaer leave. He then left Rochatar outside and went inside.  
  
'Glorohtar?'  
  
'Over here!'  
  
Beleglor eventually found Glorohtar's door, hidden under a labyrinth of locks. Beleglor tried to pick the locks, but he was unsuccessful.  
  
'Glorohtar, stand back.. I am going to have to break the door down.'  
  
Beleglor swiftly kicked the door near the locks, not breaking them, but breaking the wooden door. Glorohtar squeezed out through the splintered wood.  
  
'Come on, outside, quickly,' Beleglor said, leading Glorohtar outside.   
  
'Take Rochatar. He carries everything you need. There is enough there to last you a week.'  
  
Glorohtar nodded. Beleglor laid his hands on his shoulders.  
  
'Now, listen to me. I don't ever want to see you again without your wife by your side, all right?'  
  
Glorohtar smiled. 'All right, Father.'  
  
Beleglor embraced Glorohtar and gently kissed him.  
  
'May you ride like the wind, my son.' Glorohtar mounted Rochatar.  
  
'I promise I will not come back without her.'  
  
Beleglor nodded. Glorohtar seized the reins. 'Noro lim, Rochatar!'  
  
He was off. He would never be seen in Mirkwood again. 


	12. Danger

Farothwen rode hard through the wilderness, along the Elf-Path. She had been riding for a day and a half, and she wished to be out of the borders of Mirkwood as fast as she could. Rochtári was one of the fastest horses in Mirkwood, so she was right on target. She had not slept, as she was deathly afraid of the other Elves that may catch her.  
  
She was riding fast, tears stinging her eyes. She cursed herself for being so stupid as to fall in love with an Elf. They were right, she thought, humans are weak.  
  
How could he do that to me? How could he betray me like that? Why did I ever think he was the one for me? Why did I marry him?  
  
Rochtári sensed she was becoming fatigued from lack of sleep. She shifted herself so that Farothwen was balanced evenly on her back. Rochtári did not slow her pace but she did her best to make sure she moved smoothly along so that Farothwen could fall asleep on her back.  
  
Farothwen did just that, a couple of hours later, when they were about three-quarters of the way out of Mirkwood. Rochtári kept riding through the night.  
  
When Farothwen woke up, she was clear of Mirkwood, heading towards the Great River of the Wilderland. She felt better, having slept.  
  
'Thank you, Rochtári,' she said, stroking her mane gently.  
  
Within the next few hours, they reached the River. Farothwen stopped Rochtári so they could both rest, eat and rink.  
  
'Come on, girl, you need the rest.' Farothwen sat down and ate some food, while Rochtári drank from the calm and shallow river. When Rochtári was finished, Farothwen tossed her some fruit.  
  
They crossed the river soon after, and at the end of the second day in the Wilderland, they camped at the foot of the Ered Hithaeglir.  
  
Farothwen looked up at the Misty Mountains and sighed. She didn't plan her journey after she left Mirkwood. She decided to head for Rivendell, on the other side of the mountains.  
  
But she was scared to take the mountain passes, so she decided that the safest journey would be through the Dwarven realm of Moria. She heard they were hostile to Elves, but she hoped they would be hospitable to her.  
  
The next morning, she took Rochtári's reins in her hand and made for an entranceway nearby. It looked dark, and she could see no Dwarves, but she saw a fire far within. She was surprised there were no Dwarves stationed on the pathway. She could just see a path through the darkness. It was dusty, dirty, like it hadn't been used for years. Rochtári had trouble negotiating the pathways and stairs, but she was able to keep her balance. The going was tremendously slow, and Farothwen had to light a torch to make camp. She was cold and hungry and hoped she would find some Dwarves soon.  
  
Four days later, she was still going. Rochtári was weakening: Farothwen's food was dwindling. Her water was going the same way. She was at a loss. The caverns echoed horribly, she did not want to cause a fuss, but she needed help. The winter chill was starting to bite. She guessed she was near the end, but she needed some food.  
  
Beleglor had taught her some Dwarvish from his extensive travels: he was good friends with some Dwarves of the northern realm of Erebor. She called out a greeting in Dwarvish. Her voice echoed. There was no response.  
  
She heard something behind her. She looked up, but there was nothing there but the wall, ancient Dwarvish runes carved into the ageless stone. Suddenly, there was a large smash above her. She tried to look around, but the cavern was far too vast to be seen with her pitiful torch.  
  
The cavern was a large pit, covered and traversed with old crumbling stone stairways. Farothwen and Rochtári were standing on a small ledge with a stairway in front of them, too narrow for Rochtári to descend. Farothwen would have to send her back to Mirkwood, she could not make it to the other side. Rochtári was nervous, and she neighed loudly, the echo deafening in the silent and endless cavern.  
  
'Shh, Rochtári,' Farothwen whispered. She was frightened now. She knew that was she was lost, and there was no one to help her.  
  
Suddenly, a great cry echoed. Orcs came scurrying out of every crack in the stone, the number beyond reckoning. Farothwen gasped and dropped her torch in panic. Rochtári reared up, spooked. Before Farothwen knew it, Rochtári was trying to descend the narrow stairway in front of them. She couldn't get a grip and she slipped and fell. She tumbled off the stairs into the abyss.  
  
'Rochtári!' Farothwen screamed. The orcs came after her. She fought a few off, but the sheer number was overwhelming. Without warning, one struck her in the back of the head and she instantly fell to the ground... 


	13. Torture R

A/N: This chapter is rated R for explicit violence. If you can't stomach that sort of thing, kindly move on to the next chapter. If you're worried about missing an important premise of the plot, it will be explained in later chapters.  
  
Namárië!  
  
When she awoke, she was tied to a rack, and she felt blood dripping down her right cheek from a cut above her eyebrow. Two orcs stood by.  
  
They spoke amongst themselves in a brutal-sounding tongue that Farothwen could not understand. She could only speak Elvish, and she was still trying to learn to read. Her father did not have the education nor the resources to teach her anything else.  
  
The orcs were having some sort of disagreement about her. She thought they might be trying to decide what she was - Elven or human. The argument stopped when one reached out and touched her ear.   
  
Farothwen flinched and tried to draw away. 'Don't touch me!' she said menacingly.  
  
The other orc, who was practically salivating, raised an eyebrow. He turned to his companion and said something. The other one chuckled evilly. He looked to be plotting something.   
  
Farothwen's eyes lost their defiance. She had heard horrible tales about these orcs in the depths of Moria where no Dwarves dwell. She thought that they might be planning to do something to her - hurt her, or maybe kill her. 'Oh, Eru, no, please,' she whispered. Her fear reached fever pitch when she saw one of them fingering a whip. He gave a quiet order to the other.  
  
He seized Farothwen by her bound hands and cut the rope tying her to the rack. He dragged her bound feet on the ground as he pulled her over to a nearby pole. He tied her hands above her head, her back facing him. He got a dagger and slowly dragged it down the back of her dress, slitting the fabric, revealing her back. He licked his lips.  
  
Farothwen struggled, but all she got was a cut on the back for her efforts. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered something, licking her cheek. Farothwen was almost physically sick. The smell was putrid. She closed her eyes. There was no one to help her, no means of escape. She was utterly alone.  
  
'Get off me!' she screamed.  
  
He stepped back. Farothwen thought she had won. She didn't know they could understand her language and she was hopeful she could convince them to let her go. She wasn't prepared for the multi-thonged whip to come down hard on her bare back. Her scream echoed through the caverns. She was certain she heard an orc laugh as she whimpered. She felt blood dripping down her back, soaked up by her shredded riding dress. She was crying.  
  
The orc with the whip muttered something else, directed at her. He whipped her again, her scream even louder. She was desperately trying to stay quiet, nearly biting through her lip.  
  
A third orc came, and he untied her and dragged her back onto the rack, pushing her onto her bloodied and bruised back. She cried out in pain.  
  
The newcomer had a piece of iron heating in a nearby fire. The first orc was still salivating. He asked something of the orc with the whip and got a shouted reply.  
  
The third orc came over, the piece of iron in his hand red-hot. He gave the salivating orc an order.  
  
He held her right arm out and her hand flat. 'No, please,' Farothwen whispered, her body in shock. He looked at her and said something quietly, no doubt something perverse. He laughed evilly.  
  
The iron-bearing orc went over to Farothwen's outstretched arm. He softly laid the hot iron on the palm of her hand. Her cries were loud, but were starting to diminish with her energy and resilience.  
  
He used his other hand to curl her hand around the hot iron and he held it there. Farothwen was screaming in the most intense pain she had ever experienced. She thought she might pass out. She could smell her flesh burning. Her strength was fading. Finally, he released her hand. Her flesh was burnt black.  
  
If there was a hell, this was it. Farothwen gave up on her life - she would die here in these caverns. She had nothing to live for. Her father should have killed her when she was a baby. Death would be an escape from this. Anything was better than this.  
  
The orcs flipped her on her back. She heard one of them dragging a heavy sack over to the rack. She was face down in a pool of her own blood.  
  
Suddenly she felt an intense sting on her back, which then turned into intense pain. The orcs were rubbing salt into her whip lashes. Her weak screams were muffled by her position, the orc's laughter echoing in her head. She screamed until she could scream no longer. Finally, they painfully wiped all the salt off.  
  
The salivating orc asked the others something. They sighed and replied, clearly fed up with him. He was licking his lips in anticipation. He whispered in Farothwen's ear, and her fear grew even more. This orc was slimy and lecherous, and clearly he had other intentions for Farothwen. She was shaking uncontrollably. This was her worst fear.  
  
'No, please, let me go,' she whispered.  
  
He stroked her bloody cheek, making her flinch. He flipped her onto her back again and ripped off the remains of her ripped dress, and then cut off her skirt, leaving her dressed in only her leggings and boots, her weapons confiscated.  
  
The pain Farothwen was in ravaged her entire body, and she felt like she had nothing left. She didn't have the strength and will to fight any more. She felt herself slip into unconsciousness as the orc started touching her... 


	14. Rescue

Elrohir of Rivendell, a son of Elrond, was out hunting in the Misty Mountains when he heard a terrible cry echo from one of the orc caverns nearby. He unsheathed his sword and went to investigate. He was drawn by the cry, full of pain and anguish. He knew very well what the orcs did to the unwitting travellers who wandered into their grasp.  
  
He found his way through the winding corridors as fast as he possibly could. He was disturbed by the fact that the cry sounded female.  
  
He heard orcs conversing close ahead, so he left his torch and he creeped into the shadows, moving closer towards the sound. He saw two orcs standing in a doorway, talking in Common Speech. He strained his ears to hear their conversation.  
  
'That human was no fun at all,' the first said.  
  
'No,' the second agreed. 'Although she screamed pretty good when I whipped her.'  
  
'You know, I kinda feel sorry for her. She'll be a right mess after that idiot has his way with her.'  
  
Anger flashed in Elrohir's grey eyes. An innocent female human, probably young as well. Creeping up in the shadows on his light feet, Elrohir sneaked up on the unsuspecting orcs, and decapitated them both with a single, soundless stroke. Their heads and bodies fell to the ground with a minimal clatter, but the orc inside was too busy gloating over his prize to notice what had just happened.  
  
Elrohir sneaked up and stabbed the orc in the back, his body slumping over his prey. Elrohir threw the orc off the human, and was horrified at what he saw.  
  
A half-naked woman lay on the rack. Elrohir could see her right hand was badly burnt. Her right cheek was bloody from a large cut on her forehead. Her skin was deathly white. Elrohir knew he had to get her out of there if she was to survive. The winter winds were starting to whip through the caverns and she would die if he left her any longer.  
  
She was unconscious, and Elrohir picked her up carefully so as not to aggravate her injuries. He felt sticky rivers of blood criss-crossing her back, with pieces of fabric stuck to her skin. He pulled one of his hands away. It was saturated with blood.  
  
He quickly ran outside, carrying her as gently as he could. When he reached his waiting horse, he grabbed a spare blanket and carefully wrapped it around the human's battered body. He looked at her, and his eyes were filled with pity.   
  
'What did they do to you, my poor child?' he whispered.  
  
He carefully placed her on his horse, and climbed up himself and then they rode away to Rivendell, Elrohir keeping a close watch on her. He prayed she would survive the journey. 


	15. Dream

Farothwen saw nothing but darkness, dim firelight flickering. The laughter of orcs echoed around her. The stench of death was heavy in the air. The pain from her injuries was intensified, burning into every part of her body. She did not hope, she could not fight. She had given up. Gradually, the darkness started to lighten. A light appeared so intense she was blinded. The soft sounds of Elven song could be heard. The fetid smell was slowly disappearing. She could hear a soft female voice speaking to her...  
  
Tolo dan nan galad...  
  
In the intense light she could see an Elven maiden, bright as a star, dark haired, the perfect example of beauty. She placed a hand on her head and gently moved her hand across her brow down to her cheek. The pain from the cut on her head stopped. The maiden stepped away from her.  
  
No, where are you going, don't leave me...  
  
The maiden was replaced by another Elf, who looked identical to her, also bright as a star, like they were kin. His very form exuded strength and beauty. He was solid and sturdy, like a warrior. His voice was strong but soft and full of love.  
  
Farothwen, lasto beth nin...  
  
He took her hand in his and gently kissed it. The pain from her burn was starting to lose its intensity. Farothwen stared on in amazement as he started to walk away.  
  
No, don't go...  
  
A third Elf, obviously the brother or maybe twin of the last, approached her. She was standing on unsteady feet, her strength and stamina sapped. This Elf also spoke softly, but he seemed more delicate and sensitive than the last. His form was gentler, like he was a healer rather than a warrior. He approached her, took her in his arms, and gently lifted her off her feet. The lacerations across her back were lessened, her world growing lighter with every step they took, until it was full of light and beauty. There was nothing threatening, and Farothwen could feel the presence of Elves with her, and she felt safe. The Elf's voice spoke softly.  
  
Telin le thaed...  
  
There was a large bed up ahead. The Elf gently placed Farothwen on the bed, onto her side.  
  
You won't leave me, will you...  
  
I must, but there is another to protect you...  
  
She looked up to see another Elf standing beside her bed. He was no less fair than the Elves before him, but he looked a lot wiser than they, like he was older. He also looked alike to them, like their father or other elder.  
  
Do not fear, you are safe here with me...  
  
Unseen to him, an orc was creeping up behind him, his weapon raised. He brought it down upon the Elf's head, and he immediately fell to the ground. The orc was splattered with red blood. Farothwen was powerless to get away. The orc raised his sword above his head and Farothwen screamed. 


	16. Awakening

Farothwen was still screaming when she awoke. Her breathing was fast and shallow as she tried to take in her surroundings. She was asleep on her stomach, tears on her pillow. The sound of Elf song was around, just like in the dream. The place was full of light and beauty, just like in the dream. There was an elder Elf sitting in the corner of her room, just like in the dream.  
  
Farothwen was so overwhelmed with fright and helplessness she was still crying. The Elf walked over and sat on her bed, holding her in his arms gently.  
  
'Shh, child, you are safe here, it was just a dream. Just a dream.'  
  
When Farothwen had calmed down sufficiently, he drew back and Farothwen got a good look at him. 'Who are you?' she asked.  
  
'I am Elrond. You are in my house, in Rivendell.'  
  
'Rivendell? Who brought me here?'  
  
'My son Elrohir found you in the Hithaeglir, near death. You made it here just in time. A few hours longer and we would have not spoken. But Farothwen, now is not the time for 'what ifs'. Now is just the time for you to get well and go home.'  
  
Her brows furrowed. 'How do you know my name?'  
  
Elrond smiled. 'My sons managed to recover one thing of yours - your rucksack.' Farothwen was bored one day so she wrote her name on her backpack, using her newly-learned Beleriandic characters.  
  
A sudden fear seized Farothwen. 'You won't send me home, will you?'  
  
'Is there a reason why I shouldn't? Have you no family?'  
  
Farothwen hesitated. 'No, I have no family. I am not welcome back in Mirkwood.'  
  
Elrond looked as if he were about to question her further, but he just smiled and nodded. 'I know your reasons for leaving. Mirkwood Elves do not take kindly to our kind.'  
  
'Kind?'  
  
'My dear child, I am called Elrond Half-Elven. Human blood runs in my line. In a distant way, you and I are related. But come, I am sure you are much too sick for idle chitchat such as this. Do you feel up to seeing one more visitor?'  
  
Farothwen nodded. These Elves intrigued her - she didn't know there were dark-haired Elves even in existence.  
  
'Elrohir!' Elrond called.  
  
Elrohir slowly walked into the room. Farothwen recognised him as the Elf who healed her back in the dream. Elrohir smiled at her.  
  
'Hello, Farothwen. It's good to see you finally awake. At least you look better than you did when we first met.'  
  
Farothwen managed a slight smile. 'I'm sure I feel a lot better than I did when we first met. Elrohir - thank you for saving me. I'm sure without you I would have died.'  
  
Elrohir smiled. 'Seeing you up and about again is all the thanks I need. I would tell you to go back to sleep, but I'm sure you've slept enough over the past week.'  
  
'How long was I asleep?'  
  
'Elrohir brought you here on a morning like this not six days ago,' Elrond replied.  
  
'Six days?'  
  
'Well, Farothwen, your injuries are quite extensive. Do your wounds hurt?'  
  
She shook her head. 'No, my lord.'  
  
Elrond smiled. 'Provided you keep on this path, you should be fully recovered in about two weeks or so. I don't know how your hand will be, but we'll see.'  
  
Farothwen smiled weakly. 'At least they didn't rip out my throat.'  
  
'Why do you say that?' asked Elrohir in surprise.  
  
'Oh, sorry, I'm a minstrel.'  
  
'Oh, right,' Elrohir replied. 'Well, I'm sure my brother is calling for me, so I will leave you to rest.' Elrohir gently kissed Farothwen's uninjured hand. 'Rest well, and I'll see you later.'  
  
'Farewell, Elrohir,' Farothwen called after him. Elrond turned to her.  
  
'Well, I shall take your leave as well. My son is right, you do need to rest. There is a small bell beside you, ring it if you need anything.'  
  
Farothwen nodded. 'I thank you, Lord Elrond. For everything.'  
  
He smiled. 'Trust me, dear one, it is no trouble.'  
  
Elrond left the room silently and gracefully. Farothwen was already asleep. 


	17. Reunion

When she awoke again, she was faintly aware of a song being sung in a low, mumbled voice. It sounded very familiar. She sleepily realised it was the Nandorin lament she sang at the New Moon festival. How do the Elves of Imladris know the lays of the Nandor?  
  
She opened her eyes and was shocked at what she saw.  
  
Sitting by her bed, holding her hand, singing softly with a big grin on his face was Glorohtar.  
  
'Glorohtar,' she whispered, 'what are you doing here?'  
  
Glorohtar looked relieved. 'Farothwen, I'm so glad you're safe. When Lord Elrond told me of what happened to you, I was so scared you were...' Glorohtar trailed off, tears running unashamedly down his cheeks.  
  
Farothwen was confused. 'You don't love me, why did you fear for my safety?'  
  
'Oh, Farothwen...' Glorohtar looked hurt. 'What my father told you was an absolute lie. I love you with everything I have. I'm sorry that you doubted me.'  
  
'No, I'm sorry I doubted you. I should have known and trusted you enough to know your father lied to me.' Tears welled in Farothwen's eyes.  
  
Glorohtar kissed her forehead. 'I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you, I'm sorry this happened. I love you, Farothwen, I should have been there. I would never have let you suffer this hurt. Did he hurt you?'  
  
Farothwen nodded. 'He struck me twice. But that's the least of my worries,' she said, holding up her bandaged hand to stroke Glorohtar's cheek.  
  
'My love... my wife... do you forgive me?' Glorohtar asked.  
  
'Of course I do. It was my fault. None of this was your making.' Glorohtar leant down and gently kissed Farothwen.  
  
'What will happen to us now?' Farothwen whispered.  
  
'I don't know, Farothwen. But do not think of such things now. All that matters is that you are safe, and that we are together. And nothing will ever keep us apart.' Glorohtar sighed. 'I shall have to ask Lord Elrond if I can stay here for the time being, until you are well. I'm sure we will figure something out.' Glorohtar smiled. 


	18. Healing

Farothwen was aware of a presence at the door. A lady was there, smiling serenely, her long blonde hair shimmering in the morning sun. She seemed queenly, an Elf of very high distinction, and she was also very beautiful.  
  
'Am I interrupting?' she asked politely.  
  
Glorohtar stood up. 'Of course not, my lady.' He knew who she was.  
  
'Good morning, Farothwen,' she said, smiling. 'My name is Celebrían, I am Elrond's wife.' She carried clean linen bandages and a bowl of hot water and some herbs.  
  
'Good morning, my lady,' Farothwen replied.  
  
Celebrían placed her slender hand on Farothwen's forehead. 'Your fever is starting to fade, that's very good. There's some colour in your face and some sparkle in your eyes, finally. You are healing very quickly, quicker than both Elrond and I expected.'  
  
'Is that good, my lady?' Farothwen asked.  
  
Celebrían laughed gaily. 'Of course it is, my dear. Now, Glorohtar, if you will excuse us please, I must change Farothwen's bandages.'  
  
'Of course, my lady.' Glorohtar gently kissed Farothwen and left the room.  
  
Celebrían started on Farothwen's hand first, gently unwrapping the bandage. The flesh beneath was red and black, very swollen and tender. Celebrían did not touch it, but she crushed some herbs into the hot water and dipped a bandage into it. Farothwen looked on.  
  
'Are you in any pain, Farothwen?'  
  
'Some,' she replied.  
  
Celebrían handed over some leaves. 'Chew on these. The taste leaves a lot to be desired, but they are very good at stopping pain.'  
  
Farothwen apprehensively put the leaves in her mouth. Lady Celebrían was right, the taste was horrid. But almost immediately, the pain started to lessen.  
  
Celebrían gently wrapped the wet bandage around Farothwen's hand. 'Lady, how long will that take to heal?'  
  
Celebrían shook her head. 'I do not know, my dear. Months, I'm guessing. There will be a lot of scarring.'  
  
'Will I be able to use it?'  
  
'Once it is fully healed, I don't see why not.'  
  
Farothwen smiled slightly. 'That's good.'  
  
Celebrían smiled. 'Why, do you live up to your name?'  
  
Farothwen chuckled. 'No, huntress in training.'  
  
Farothwen lay on her stomach so Celebrían could clean up the wounds on her back. Some of them had re-opened. Celebrían shook her head as she cleaned up the blood as gently as she could, but not without causing Farothwen some pain.  
  
'My poor child... I don't know how you lived through this. How such brutal injuries could be inflicted on one as young and innocent as you.'  
  
'To be honest, Lady, I don't know how I survived either.'  
  
Celebrían soaked the bandages in the water and herbs and carefully re-bandaged Farothwen's back. She smiled.  
  
'At least you survived, that's the main thing. Don't worry, my child, you'll be well enough to leave soon.'  
  
'But, um, my lady...' Farothwen stuttered in her apprehension. 'I don't have a home. I was driven out of Mirkwood and mine and Glorohtar's lives will be at risk if we return.'  
  
Celebrían nodded. 'I understand. I will talk with my husband and we'll see if we can come to a solution. In the meantime, don't worry about anything and just get well.' Celebrían kissed her brow and left. 


	19. Homefinding

Some days later (Farothwen had lost count of the time she had spent in the sanctuary), Elrond walked in with a smile upon his face. Farothwen looked at him hopefully.  
  
'Some good news, Lord Elrond?'  
  
His grin became broader. 'Yes indeed, Farothwen. My wife, sons and I have taken counsel with one another concerning you and Glorohtar. We unanimously agreed that if you wish to remain here, you may with our leave.'  
  
Farothwen was too shocked to say anything for a second. 'My lord, surely... we are already far in your debt.'  
  
'You have no debt with us. We have become fond of you both over the past, what...' Elrond looked at the moon outside. 'Goodness, it has been a full month since Elrohir found you.' Elrond sat down gently upon her bed. 'You have nothing to fear while you remain with us. My sons in particular adore you, and would gladly protect you.' He clasped her hands. 'Will you stay?'  
  
Farothwen smiled. 'Of course we will. That is... if you will do one thing for me.'  
  
'What is that? You may ask anything of me.'  
  
'Glorohtar has sent word to my father in Mirkwood, the one who took pity on me and raised me. He should be arriving soon, with your leave.'  
  
'He shall have it before he even asks me of it.'  
  
'When he arrives...' Farothwen took a deep breath. 'Glorohtar and I would like to ask you if you and Lady Celebrían would marry us.'  
  
Elrond smiled. 'My dear child... why did you not say so earlier? Of course we will! When should your father be arriving?'  
  
Farothwen thought for a moment. 'Glorohtar sent word on the swiftest line he could find about three weeks ago. I should think we have a month before he arrives.'  
  
'What is his name? I must send word to my gatekeepers to keep a watch for him so he can be welcomed immediately into Imladris.'  
  
'His name is Beleglor, minstrel of Mirkwood.'  
  
'Minstrel? Well, it just so happens we need a minstrel. Our best minstrel, my daughter, has gone to Lothlórien to stay with her mother's kin. Will he stay for a while?'  
  
'I should think so.' Farothwen just realised what Elrond had said. 'Pardon, my lord, but I knew not that you had a daughter.'  
  
'Her name is Arwen, also called Undómiel. The fairest maiden to walk upon the earth since Tinúviel, they say. You shall meet her one day, not to worry.' He suddenly remembered the package he had brought with him. 'Oh! I forgot my main purpose - to check your wounds.'  
  
Elrond took her right hand and unwound the bandage. The scarring was lessened, the swelling had almost disappeared, and it was healing smoothly. Farothwen only suffered a small amount of pain, and she was able to use her hand, albeit very occasionally. This was the worst of her injuries by far. The lashes on her back were now closed and scabbed over. Sometimes she felt twinges of pain when she was moving around, but it was nothing major. The cut above her eyebrow left a small scar that would be there for the rest of her days. She was healing quickly, quicker than most had expected. In fact, the cold night when she was brought into Rivendell, the air heavy with snow and wind and Elrohir's cries for help, most had expected that she would not survive at all. All they could do was hope. 


	20. Consequences

After Elrond changed her bandages (which were mostly kept on for pressure), Farothwen changed into a dark red dress and put a white fur-collared mantle on and walked out into the snow. Snow was a novelty for her, as the woods of Mirkwood were far too dense and dark for snow to ever fall. She wrapped the cloak tightly around herself as she walked around, observing the bare trees and open skies, snowflakes falling on her face and the wind whipping around her, bellowing her mantle out behind her. From a distance, none could tell where the snow ended and her mantle began. Farothwen had never been in a space so open before. She had never seen naked trees, there were so many things she had never experienced. She made up her mind right there and then to travel around Middle-earth to see what she could see. In her sicker days, she poured over the library in the Homely House, looking at maps and tales of far-off places. She also looked over the stories of old and the history of the Elves and of humans. There were stories of humans, but many were in a language and script she could not read. Elladan and Elrohir were a great help to her, her shaky reading skills much improved with their encouragement, although they were not as well-versed as their father in terms of scripts and language, but they told Farothwen it was an ancient language of men.  
  
All of this information was new to her, and hard to take in. She felt ashamed that she did not know the stories of her race, the stories of her homeland, and the stories of the race of people that were so kind in raising her and healing her. She read in particular the Lay of Leithian, as she had not known who Lúthien Tinúviel was when Elrond referred to her.   
  
She went back to the library and re-read it with tears in her eyes. The story itself was moving and beautiful, but it was not the story that made her cry. What made her cry was Lúthien, the Elven maiden who gave up everything she had for her human love, Beren. Elves do not die - but she had to in order to be with him. Farothwen had no idea that death was the consequence of relationships between Elves and humans. She cried because she knew that she could not let Glorohtar die. It would kill her to let him go, but she had to in order to save his life.  
  
She sat with her head in her hands, crying, the candle burning beside her. A voice called her name. She looked up, tears running down her cheeks. It was Glorohtar.  
  
His smile quickly faded when he saw Farothwen was crying. He sat on the bench next to her, wrapping his strong arms around her.  
  
'My love, what is wrong?'  
  
Farothwen gestured to the parchment. Glorohtar knew the story well.  
  
'The Lay of Lúthien… my love, why do you cry so?'  
  
'Surely you know the consequences…'  
  
Glorohtar suddenly realised why Farothwen was so upset. 'I do know. That story is well known among our people and there have been a few cases in times long gone. I know only too well of what will become of me. But I have accepted my fate.'  
  
Farothwen shook her head. 'I will not accept it. You are an Elf, Glorohtar, I am mortal. I will not let you die.'  
  
'Oh, Farothwen.' Glorohtar drew her close, sheltering her from the draughty library. 'When the long, happy days of your life finally end, mine will too. Even if I lived for all eternity I still will be dead in my heart without you. My life would have no meaning if you weren't here. I thought long and hard about what would happen to me but it's all worth it. I would rather have just a few years with you than spend the rest of all the days of this earth without you. I choose to share your fate, as I share your life and you share mine. I choose to become mortal.'  
  
'You would be willing to do that for me?'  
  
'For you, I'd be willing to do anything.'  
  
Glorohtar wiped the silent tears off Farothwen's face and kissed her. 'I love you, Farothwen. That will never change.'  
  
Farothwen smiled. 'I love you too.' She flicked back the pages to show him one specific verse that struck her, when Lúthien first fell in love with Beren and met her doom. He read it.  
  
'Aw, that's so beautiful. Kind of like us?'  
  
Farothwen nodded and smiled. 'Kind of like us.' 


	21. Arrangements

Two weeks passed, and Farothwen was fully recovered. Her right hand was scarred, but she had full use of it again. She went back to archery practice and riding again. She visited her father's horse Rochatar in the stables. She placed a hand on his brown neck and placed her head on his. He seemed to be in a great deal of sadness. He seemed to sense that his daughter was gone.  
  
'I'm so sorry I lost Rochtári, Ada.' Tears started to fall. Rochtári had been her only companion ever since she was a child and she had an almost sisterly bond with her, hence her nickname for Rochatar.  
  
Farothwen missed her father. She felt lost without him, since he was always there for her and loved him dearly. She had been worried about him, especially with Hirogaer about. She hoped that he hadn't been harassing him.  
  
Farothwen walked back out into the snow. It was nearing February now, and the weather was starting to warm up, which was good for Farothwen, but really made no difference to the Elves, since they did not feel the cold too much. It was very windy, and Farothwen's blue dress and black mantle were billowing everywhere, as was her auburn hair. She heard horses' hooves and soon enough Elladan and Elrohir came galloping home from yet another errand.  
  
'Morning!' Elladan shouted over the roaring wind. 'What are you doing out here?'  
  
'I just wanted to go for a walk.'  
  
Elladan slapped his forehead. 'Oh! I've a message for you! I almost forgot the blasted thing.'  
  
'Good one, Elladan,' Elrohir replied snidely. 'You're over two thousand years old, not over ten.'  
  
'Shush, Elrohir!' Elladan turned back to Farothwen. 'Nana wants to see you.'  
  
Farothwen nodded. 'All right.' She turned and hurried back into the main house out of the cold. She shook her mantle free of snow before going up to see Celebrían in her chambers.  
  
Farothwen knocked on the door. 'My lady?'  
  
'Yes, come in, dear,' Celebrían said with a cheer in her voice. She was always smiling, laughing, a source of radiant light and happiness, a quality she definitely inherited from her mother, Galadriel, Lady of Light.  
  
'Oh, so finally my vagabond sons told you of my message.' She chuckled. 'Come here, my dearest. Stand tall and hold your arms out.'  
  
Confused, Farothwen did as she asked. Celebrían looked at her carefully, as if she were taking mental measurements. She smiled in satisfaction and nodded her head. 'You're almost the same as Arwen.'  
  
'In what way, my lady?' Farothwen was thoroughly confused.  
  
'Dress size, of course. Is that...' Celebrían pushed Farothwen's mantle off her shoulders. 'I thought I recognised that one.'  
  
Farothwen looked down at her dress. 'Is this Lady Arwen's?'  
  
'Yes, it is, and a brilliant fit it is too. I wonder who found that for you.'  
  
'Lord Elrond did. My lady, if you don't mind my asking, what did you want to see me for?'  
  
Celebrían smiled. 'Please, Farothwen, we are far too close for dignitaries now. Celebrían will do just fine. The same for my husband. Now, what this is about...' A grin appeared on her face, as if she was being sneaky. 'Why, I'm measuring you.'  
  
Farothwen's brow furrowed. 'For what, m-... Celebrían.'  
  
'Your wedding dress, of course! And I have the perfect one in mind. I will hand it over to my maidens immediately. You said your father arrives in two weeks, yes?'  
  
'Yes...' Farothwen was more than a bit overwhelmed. 'I know not what to say.'  
  
'Don't say anything, child. You and Glorohtar are as family to us. We will take care of everything, myself and my handmaidens. This is not a matter for males,' she said, smiling. 'Run along, and tell your husband I want to see him. We will make a set of robes for him as well.'  
  
Farothwen left the chamber, grinning. All her life, she felt as if she didn't belong, that she wasn't welcome amongst her people. Here in Rivendell... she belonged. 


	22. Arrival

The remaining days were spent busily planning the wedding. There was no definite date, but they had both decided it would be a couple of a days after Beleglor arrived. Everyone was excited, as weddings were now getting to be quite rare. Indeed, the last Elf that had been born on Middle-earth was Lady Arwen, who was well over two thousand years old. Farothwen spent many hours amongst Celebrían's ten lovely handmaidens, who all fussed over her, measuring every inch of her body, but she was expressly not allowed to see her dress. The few winter blossoms and early spring ones were gathered eagerly, as the minstrels and musicians practiced. Feasts were prepared as everyone in Rivendell was invited. Everything was ready - all they were waiting on was Beleglor.  
  
The snow was starting to melt as March crept upon them. The normally calm Ford of Bruinen was raging with snowmelt. Beautiful flowers were starting to blossom, as Farothwen recalled the tale of Lúthien, whose song broke the strong spell of winter. Everything was perfect. The animals drew forth from their winter hideaways, and birdsong was again in the trees, whose branches were covered in buds. Farothwen was grateful for the warmth and perfect sunny weather.  
  
One day, when Elladan and Elrohir were again on errantry, Farothwen was walking through the city near the gates when she heard horses' hooves. She turned around, expecting to see the twins returning home. She got a shock.  
  
Riding upon a massive black horse was Beleglor: on time, as Glorohtar predicted. Farothwen was overjoyed as he dismounted.  
  
'Ada!' She rushed into his arms.  
  
'Goodness, I almost did not recognise you, my love! How are you!' Beleglor held onto his daughter tight. 'I came as quick as I could.' Concern came upon his fair face. 'Glorohtar said you'd been hurt. Are you well?'  
  
'Yes, I'm fine. Couldn't be better.' She raised her scarred hand to brush some hair back without thinking. Beleglor took it.  
  
'Farothwen, what happened to your beautiful hand?'  
  
'It's nothing, Ada, really. Come! I want you to meet my healers.' Farothwen called over her shoulder to one of Elrond's advisors, Glorfindel, as she passed.   
  
'Glorfindel, can you get that horse stabled for me? Thank you.'  
  
Beleglor looked around. 'I have not been here before. They say the Sindar are not welcome here.'  
  
'Nonsense, Ada. Everyone is welcomed here. They have accepted Glorohtar and I with open arms.'  
  
'It's beautiful here,' he replied. 'There seems to be a big celebration here.'  
  
'Well, yes, er...' Farothwen stopped. 'Ada, I wasn't going to tell you until tonight, but I cannot wait. Glorohtar and I are getting married.'  
  
Beleglor looked shocked at first. But then he smiled. 'It's not like I wasn't expecting it. You both have my blessing, it's just a bit of a shock.'  
  
Farothwen giggled. 'Well, Ada, you always have been a bit slow on the uptake as to my goings-on.'  
  
Beleglor laughed. 'Yes, that is true, sadly. Come on, show me around.' 


	23. Revelations

A/N: I'm so very sorry that it's taken me so long to update! Those Elves of Rivendell have kidnapped my muses and threatened them until I wrote at least two stories about them, so I did. I hope you enjoy this, it's nice and long.  
  
Farothwen led Beleglor on an impromptu tour of Rivendell, showing him the stables and the Hall of Fire, the main hall in Elrond's house where lays and lore were heard. She showed him the chambers in which her and Glorohtar lived, and the archery ranges and fencing practice halls. As she led him all over her new home with an almost childlike glee, Beleglor marvelled on how much she had changed in the short months since he last saw her. She seemed ecstatically happy, and settled. When she was growing up, she had an intense wanderlust, always straying from her home no matter how much Beleglor tried to keep her fenced in for her own safety. The other Elves of Mirkwood were very cruel to her, making snide comments behind her back and even attempting to assault her. Once when she was very young, Beleglor caught another Elf trying to strike her.  
  
And here she was, still young in both Elven and Dúnedain standards, but come to full womanhood. Beleglor felt his heart swell with pride as Farothwen took his hand and ran through the walkways of Rivendell, her hair caught in the breeze and sunlight, her green eyes sparkling, her smile wide, looking back at her father, daring him to run to catch up with her. Beleglor grinned and took her up on her dare as they ran back to Elrond's house. Even though Farothwen was raised as an Elf and had known no other company her entire life, she still seemed human, and that's what Beleglor loved about her. She did not know the sadness of Elves, particularly Beleglor's kind. She had a contagious optimism that was hard to resist.  
  
Beleglor was snapped out of sad thoughts and memories brought on by Farothwen's blood-red dress by one simple cry: 'Ada!'  
  
He turned to see Glorohtar running towards him. Beleglor grinned as he greeted him, nearly knocked down by the strength of Glorohtar's embrace. He had changed so much too: Farothwen's optimism and happiness had rubbed off on him.  
  
'How are you, my son?' Beleglor asked.  
  
Glorohtar was beaming. 'Ada, I'm so glad you're here at last.'  
  
Beleglor looked around. Even though Rivendell was a refuge for all beings in need, whether Elven or human, he felt out of place. His and Glorohtar's blonde hair were incongruous amongst the rest of the inhabitants walking around at this hour. They were all dark-haired.  
  
Noldor. There are Noldor everywhere.  
  
Sudden flashes of memory came to Beleglor's mind. The smell of saltwater, the fire of torches, the glinting of swords in the moonlight. He could hear the screams of his kin in his old tongue and the war cries of a tongue unfamiliar. Pale wood ablaze, white sail ripped apart, golden sand and black water laced with red blood. The swans had flown away, scared by the flames. Black and red-haired Elves chanting, their swords stained crimson. Another flash. The torchlight fading away to the horizon, charred wood in the water, silhouettes lying on the beach. The glint of silver hair in the moonlight, clumped with blood.  
  
'Brother... help me...'  
  
A last breath, the tide coming in, dragging the body out to sea. Grabbing onto the silver tunic.  
  
'No, Celebdain!'  
  
Sinking to his knees in the sand, his brother's head in his lap, hands stained with blood, golden hair mingled with silver, crying, screaming and swearing revenge on those who had lain waste.  
  
Beleglor opened his eyes. He was on his knees shaking wildly, tears pouring from his eyes. There was nothing in his lap where his brother's body should have been, but there was blood pooled in front of him. He blinked. Everything came back into focus. The pool of blood was actually Farothwen's dress. She knelt down and looked into his eyes.   
  
'Ada, are you all right?' She placed her hands on his shoulders and helped him to his feet. Beleglor felt highly embarrassed. Farothwen looked to someone over Beleglor's shoulder.  
  
'What should we do, Master Elrond?'  
  
'I think your father should rest, Farothwen. He has ridden a very long way.'  
  
Beleglor turned around and stopped dead in his tracks. There was a Noldo, clearly the lord of this realm, dressed in fine robes. Beleglor seethed. He would not let his children stay in the care of a Kinslayer!  
  
'Farothwen! Glorohtar! Pack your things! We are not staying here.'  
  
'Ada! Calm down!' Farothwen ran to keep up with her father as he walked away. She grabbed his arm. 'Listen to me!'  
  
'No! I am your father, listen to me! That spawn of Morgoth killed my family long ago, before you were even thought of. How would you feel if your brother was injured, calling for you, your kin dying all around you, while these dark devils went around happily slaying each and every one of them? How would you feel if you hid until they were gone and emerged just in time to have your brother die in your arms? Were you there, Farothwen? Do you know what they did?' Beleglor's voice had risen to a roar. 'People like him, lord or no, cannot be trusted! Be grateful you never knew these hardships! You're just human, you know nothing of it.'  
  
Farothwen was immensely hurt by this comment. 'I'm a Dúnadan, Ada. If what Lord Elrond says is right, I have Elvish blood. It also means that I am part Noldorin. You do not know what I suffered in the mountains. I would have died, if it were not for this man and his sons. How can you tell me they cannot be trusted?'  
  
Farothwen walked away, with tears in her eyes. Glorohtar looked helpless. He eventually followed her, shooting Beleglor a death glare. It was only then did he realise his hypocrisy and what he had done to his daughter. He looked over at Elrond, who stood calmly but had a tinge of anger in his eyes. He shook his head and walked away. Tears ran down Beleglor's cheeks.   
  
'Farothwen,' he whispered, and made to run after her, but two gentle hands stopped him. Beside him stood two Elves, Glorfindel and Celebrían. Beleglor was relieved to see another blonde Elf, let alone two. They led him to a chamber within Elrond's house.  
  
Beleglor sat on the rather comfortable chair, his head in his hands. He could not believe what he had just done. The long suppressed memories of the Kinslaying by the sons of Fëanor at Alqualondë in a now lost land so long ago had suddenly risen up and taken him over. He had embarrassed himself and the ones he loved, and hurt his daughter, and made his son angry with him. He was still shaking.  
  
He felt a cup of something being pressed into his hands. He looked up to see the beautiful and benevolent Lady of Imladris, a smile on her fair face as she pushed the cup of tea into his hands once more. This time, he took it, tears still running down his cheeks. In the light, he saw the silver shimmer of Celebrían's hair, so reminiscent of her father. A shudder ran through Beleglor. It was exactly the same colour as Celebdain's...  
  
Glorfindel was seated beside him.   
  
'Beleglor,' he said gently, in a voice that both held beauty and the wisdom of many thousands of years. 'Are you all right?'  
  
Beleglor nodded slightly. Celebrían's friendly and wise eyes looked into his.  
  
'Drink it,' she commanded softly, in the gently forceful manner she had, always useful for controlling her wayward sons. She bore a slight smile. 'I promise it isn't poisoned.'  
  
Beleglor drank the tea, and its calming effect was almost immediate. He felt better, and he felt like he could actually speak. His shaking had stopped. He shook his head in disbelief.  
  
'I'm so sorry... if I offended you, m-my lord and lady.' His voice was shaky and nervous. 'I do not know... what came over me.'  
  
'I do not blame you, Beleglor,' Celebrían said in her gentle voice. 'I am sorry for all the wrongs my kin wrought against you.'  
  
'Your kin?' Beleglor was utterly confused.  
  
'Glorfindel and myself are part Noldorin, both of the Golden House of Finarfin, named for our hair colour.' She and Glorfindel exchanged looks. 'Glorfindel is half-Vanyar and I am half-Teleri.'  
  
'Begging your pardon, my lady, but you look it,' Beleglor said. 'Your hair is silver.'  
  
Celebrían looked grave. 'That comes from my father. He is Teleri, formerly of Doriath.' She said the last word in a whisper. Beleglor looked up sharply at her.  
  
'What is his name? I may know him.'  
  
'His name is Celeborn. But you may know him as Teleporno.'  
  
Beleglor's eyes widened with recognition. 'I knew him and his kin well. Did not his brother suffer the same fate as mine?'  
  
Celebrían nodded. 'He holds the same hatred for the Kinslayers as well as you. But he does not extend the same hatred to all Noldor.'  
  
'How do you know this?'  
  
She smiled slightly. 'He married my mother. She is Altáriel, daughter of Finarfin. But she is known to all as Galadriel.'  
  
Beleglor bowed his head. 'I knew not you were the daughter of the Lady of Light. She is well known to us in Mirkwood, as her people are our close kin.'  
  
Celebrían nodded. 'As you guessed, my husband is also part Noldorin. However, he is of the line of Fingolfin through Idril Celebrindal. He is named Peredhil, as he is half-Elven.'  
  
Beleglor felt utterly mortified. 'My lady, words cannot express the deep regret I feel for the brash remarks I made. I owe you a debt that can never be repaid, saving my daughter's life. Please forgive this foolish Elf.'  
  
Celebrían let out a small joyful laugh. 'You have no debt with us, dear Beleglor. We were merely doing our duties. Your distress and mistrust was warranted with the hurt that you suffered long ago. Your apologies lie not with us - they lie with your daughter.'  
  
Beleglor sighed and ran his hand through his hair. 'How could I hurt my child so? I love her with all of my heart, although she is not of my own blood.'  
  
Glorfindel looked at Beleglor shrewdly. 'Tell me, Beleglor, if you don't mind, why did you take her in?'  
  
Beleglor stopped to think for a second. 'I heard her crying in the woods. She was just a babe, innocent and defenceless. I picked her up without thinking. It was not until I read the note her mother left that I realised she was human. It was never an issue for me. When she opened her eyes and looked at me with those eyes of pure emerald, I loved her from that hour. I loved her regardless as I would a child of my own. I was heartbroken that she would spend her life persecuted for being different. I just wished that Mirkwood would accept her as I did.'  
  
'She needed your help and love, and you gladly gave it, regardless of whether she was human or Elven. You accepted her, even though she was different and you had never been around her kind.'  
  
Beleglor nodded, thinking about Glorfindel's words. He realised he was hinting at Beleglor's thoughts of the Noldor. He looked up at the two Elves who stood before him. They both bore the light, wisdom and beauty of many days, they were nobles of a far higher status than Beleglor could ever reach. They helped rule this realm, this refuge, and here he was, throwing a temper tantrum! He was being so ungrateful to those who were looking after and healing his two precious children. He hung his head in shame.  
  
Celebrían's slender hand stroked Beleglor's cheek and tilted his chin up. She had some of her mother's gift in reading people's thoughts. She smiled benevolently.  
  
'You have my leave, Beleglor of Mirkwood, to stay for as long as you wish, with your children. You have not offended us, do not worry, and I shall take care of my husband. Elven lords do tend to be a bit grumpy,' she laughed.  
  
Beleglor kissed her hand. 'Thank you so much, my lady. I owe you my daughter's life.'  
  
She shook her head. 'Not me. My son Elrohir rescued her and brought her here. He is the one that should be the recipient of such gratitude. Now, you must find your daughter.'  
  
As Beleglor turned to leave, looking gratefully at Glorfindel, who smiled back at him, he looked back at Celebrían. 'Is it true, what Farothwen said? About having Elvish blood?'  
  
Celebrían nodded. 'The Dúnedain are the descendants of the first King of Númenor, Tar-Minyatur, or, as he is better known, Elros. Elros is one of a pair of brothers who had the choice of choosing their fate: to become Elven or human. Elros chose mortality, his brother, immortality.'  
  
'Who is his brother?'  
  
Celebrían smiled. 'Elrond, my husband. My children also face the choice when my husband leaves these shores, but that will not be for many lifetimes of Men. Our children are cousins from afar.'  
  
Beleglor bowed and left the room. He stopped in the hall to take a breath. Today had been a very long day. 


	24. Reconciliation

Farothwen did not see her father until star-opening, when the evening feast started. He was seated at the board alongside Glorfindel, Glorohtar on his other side. Farothwen sat beside Glorohtar, not daring to look up from her plate, no matter how many times Beleglor tried to gain eye contact. She only whispered low words to Glorohtar for the whole meal, not feeling in the mood for speaking to anyone else. She was too hurt.  
  
She couldn't believe how her own father turned on her and her rescuers like that. All her life, she thought he was different from the other Elves who ridiculed and rejected her. And now he was one of them... would Glorohtar be like that too?  
  
Farothwen excused herself and left the board and fled up to her room, tears stinging her eyes. She flopped on her bed, her face buried in a pillow, silent tears running down her cheeks.  
  
She heard the door open. 'Go away,' she said, her voice muffled.  
  
'That's very nice, coming from someone who caused me to be removed from my own room.'  
  
Farothwen lifted her head. All she could see was a tall silhouette and the light of ebony hair. ''Rohir?' she asked, uncertain.  
  
''Dan, actually.' Elladan entered and sat on her bed. He looked around. 'You know how insufferable my brother is to bunk with? He snores like a demon. I swear he's not Elven sometimes.'  
  
Farothwen let a small giggle escape.   
  
'That's the spirit, sweeting. Now, do you want to come here and tell your Uncle 'Dan all about it?'  
  
Farothwen raised an eyebrow. 'Uncle? You look hardly older than me in age.'  
  
'Well, forget about the uncle bit. But still, come here and tell me.'  
  
Farothwen hesitantly sat up and told Elladan all about what her father did and how much it scared her. She felt utterly dismissed and rejected, and she feared Glorohtar would do the same. She also did not know how to help her father cope with his memories and how to comfort him. Elladan listened sympathetically and put a friendly arm around Farothwen. After she finished speaking, he nodded thoughtfully and began to speak.  
  
'Well, it's an awful lot for you to deal with, especially so close to your wedding. I think maybe the best thing is for you to talk to each other and get everything out in the open.'  
  
'But, Elladan, I don't want to talk to him right now.'  
  
'Too bad, he's here.' Elladan gestured to the doorway. Beleglor stood with Elrohir, who gave him a subtle push into the room. Elladan smiled at Farothwen and left the room with Elrohir.  
  
'Promise me you'll never have twins, Farothwen, for they are sneaky and like to meddle in others' affairs,' Beleglor said flatly.  
  
Laughter reverberated down the hallway, as well as distant voices.  
  
'Did you hear that, brother Elrohir? Sneaky indeed!'  
  
'Certainly did, brother Elladan! I'm most insulted!'  
  
Farothwen bowed her head as a slight smile covered her face. When she had recovered, she looked back up at her father. His face was sad and eyes apologetic, red from crying. He wordlessly knelt at Farothwen's feet and took her hands and kissed them.  
  
'Iell nin, please forgive me. I'm ever so sorry for hurting you the way I did. I know not what came over me, and I'm sorry I never told you of what happened to me when I was an Elfling. I'm sorry for all the hurt you suffered, I did not know what they did to you. I'm sorry that Hirogaer hurt you, I'm sorry I was not able to raise you in the way you deserved, I'm sorry I did not keep the promise I made to your mother. I'm sorry for all the wrongs done to you your entire life. I've failed you. Please forgive me.'  
  
Farothwen did not know what to say to this speech. Words failed her.   
  
'M-my mother?'  
  
Beleglor nodded. He reached inside his tunic and gave her a well-thumbed, crumpled piece of paper. 'I have been carrying this around with me for forty-one years, waiting for the right time to give it to you. I suppose that time is now.' He pressed it into Farothwen's hand. She carefully opened it and read it, but not without some difficulty. Her eyes filled with tears.  
  
'My name is Ilirdin... is that why you called me Farothwen?'  
  
Beleglor nodded. 'I thought it only fair to keep the name your mother gave you.'  
  
Farothwen shook her head. 'What caused her to abandon me? What happened to my father? Where is she now?'  
  
'There are many questions that will go unanswered, my dear one. But do not dwell on the past. Am I not your father?'  
  
'Of course you are my father, and you always will be. It's just a part of me will always be unknown.'  
  
'I know, sweetard. But look to your future! It will be bright and glorious. And your children will be beautiful, just like you.'  
  
Beleglor drew Farothwen into a long embrace, still kneeling before her. He wiped her tears away and took her hands. He smiled, trying to act excited.  
  
'We can't have you crying, you're going to get married soon!'  
  
Farothwen laughed in spite of her tears. 'I know.'  
  
Beleglor rose and kissed her forehead. 'You'd better sleep, sweet one, as do I. Today has been a very long day.'  
  
'Du maen, Ada. Melon le.'  
  
Beleglor smiled at Farothwen. 'Melon le, hen nin.'  
  
--------------------------------------------------------  
  
Iell nin - My daughter  
  
Du maen, Ada. Melon le - Good night, Dad. I love you  
  
hen nin - My child 


	25. Accident

Morning came, and Farothwen had awoken early, the cheerful songs of the morning birds having disturbed her. She took the rare opportunity of walking around on her own, without her husband or father or the twins accompanying her. Don't they have anything better to do? thought Farothwen. She was walking around the trees, admiring the pretty spring blossoms that were starting to bloom from the tiny buds on the bare branches. It was just before dawn, and everything was still and pale in the early morning light. She approached a fish pond ahead as she picked a flower from a bush for her hair. Just as she tucked it behind her ear, she tripped over a carefully concealed rope and went face-first right into the pond with a scream. She could hear faint sounds of laughter and a voice say, 'Erestor screams like a girl!' The sounds of merriment turned to gasps of horror as the culprits turned the corner and saw who actually ended up swimming with Elrond's goldfish.  
  
'Sweet Eru Almighty!'  
  
Farothwen couldn't move, the water in the pond so cold her upper body had frozen from the shock. She felt two pairs of strong hands grab her arms and lift her out, coughing and spluttering.  
  
'Oh, Eru, Farothwen, are you all right?' Elrohir quickly whipped his cloak off and bundled it around Farothwen's shoulders. She was shivering and crying from the shock, unable to speak. Elladan instantly pulled her into his arms tightly, rubbing her to try to warm her up.  
  
'Oh, sweeting, we're so, so sorry,' he whispered. 'We were trying to get Erestor, we never thought you'd walk into the trap...' Elladan placed a hand on Farothwen's forehead. ''Rohir, we have to get her home, she's freezing.'  
  
Elrohir nodded, and gathered her up in his arms. Thankfully, they weren't far away from the Last Homely House. Elladan and Elrohir quickly entered, Elrohir silently looking to his elder brother for instructions.  
  
'Take her down to the healing rooms; I'll go and wake Nana,' Elladan said.  
  
Elrohir nodded. 'What about Ada?'  
  
'He must not know. If he finds out, he'll have our ar-'  
  
'Finds out what?'  
  
The twins turned to see their sister Arwen standing on the stairs in her nightdress, woken by the noise. 'What's going on?'  
  
Elladan sighed. 'Oh, Arwen, I'm so glad to see you. When did you get home?'  
  
Arwen rushed over to Elrohir. 'Never mind me! What happened to her?'  
  
'She fell in the pond,' Elrohir replied.  
  
Arwen looked sidelong at her brothers. 'Don't tell me you were trying to get Erestor!'  
  
'Shush, keep your voice down! She's freezing, we have to get her into warm clothes,' Elrohir hissed.  
  
'Take her,' Arwen said, 'and I'll get some warm robes. Hurry!'  
  
Elrohir hurriedly took Farothwen down to the healing rooms. He noticed she was nearly falling asleep in his arms.  
  
'Farothwen, don't go to sleep!'  
  
He finally set her down on the table, made sure her wet hair wasn't touching her face, and removed her cloak and shoes. He made to take off her dress, but Arwen came with the robes.  
  
'You, out. I'll remove her clothing.'  
  
'But Arwen-'  
  
'Out, I said.' Arwen studied Farothwen for the first time. 'Don't tell me this is the Dúnadan maid.'  
  
Elrohir nodded. 'Yes, that's Farothwen. How do you know of her?'  
  
'Nana and Ada told me of her, and the terrible injuries she suffered.' Arwen cast a final dark glance at Elrohir which made him leave the room. She got Farothwen out of her saturated dress and into the dry robes she found for her. As she did so, she noticed the terrible scars criss-crossing her back and also her scarred hand. She shook her head.  
  
'Farothwen, what did you do to deserve this?' she whispered.  
  
Arwen quickly searched her father's tonic hoard until she found the one she was looking for, a solution that cures bitter cold by heating the patient from the inside. She sat Farothwen up and poured a little down her throat, making sure she did not choke. Within a few seconds, Farothwen's eyes opened and she sat up.  
  
'Where am I?' she asked weakly. She looked around and was startled to see only Arwen, a stranger to her.  
  
'You're in the healing chambers,' Arwen said. Farothwen wrapped her robes tightly around her.  
  
'I'm cold... but I feel warm on the inside. What happened to me?'  
  
Arwen sighed. 'My idiotic brothers made you fall into the freezing fish pond.'  
  
'I remember them pulling me out...' Farothwen looked hard at the beautiful Elf maiden. Her brows furrowed. 'Lady Arwen?'  
  
'How do you know my name?'  
  
'Lord Elrond has told me a lot about you.'  
  
'And he has told me about you, Farothwen.'  
  
Arwen was interrupted by loud shouts coming from upstairs. Farothwen slowly placed her feet on the floor and stood, walking shakily. Arwen grabbed her arm to make sure she did not fall. Farothwen strained her ears to listen.  
  
'I can't understand what they're saying...'  
  
'Shush...' Arwen could understand the ancient language of Quenya. She listened intently and she winced at the biting words her father, wide awake, was using against her brothers. Her face was shocked as she heard the vulgar reply Elladan gave.  
  
'Eru Almighty!' she whispered as her mother intervened, her voice the loudest of all. Farothwen grabbed the hand rail and climbed the stairs, Arwen following cautiously behind her. As Farothwen reached the landing where the feuding family stood, she saw Glorohtar and Beleglor come down as well, followed by Glorfindel and Erestor, all of whom were awakened by the shouting.  
  
'What in Eru's name is going on here?' Glorfindel said.  
  
Elrond saw Farothwen and Arwen over Elrohir's shoulder. 'Sellath nin, come here.' Farothwen, almost blue with cold and dressed in thick robes, steadily made her way over to Elrond, Arwen following close behind in case something happened.  
  
'This is what's going on, Glorfindel! My sons, whom you are supposed to guard, nearly killed Farothwen this morning!' Elrond shouted.  
  
'What?' cried Glorohtar. He leaped towards Elladan and Elrohir, but Beleglor held him back with a murderous glare.  
  
'Elrond, you were supposed to be taking care of my daughter, how could you let her be put in danger such as this!' Beleglor's fury, though he remained calm, was evident. 'I knew I should never have left her in the hands of the Noldor.'  
  
Every Noldo in the room looked at Glorohtar. The twins glared, but the older Elves knew why Beleglor felt the way he did.  
  
'Ada, it was an accident. I'm all right.'  
  
Farothwen's faint voice gained everyone's attention.  
  
'Then why did Elrond say you nearly died, Farothwen?'  
  
'He was exaggerating, wasn't he, Lady Arwen?' Farothwen looked at Arwen, pleading with her to back her up. Arwen did not know the extent of the bond Farothwen had with her brothers, but she knew Farothwen did not want them in trouble. Arwen slowly nodded.  
  
'She was all right. She just needed warm clothes.'  
  
Elladan and Elrohir looked astounded, as they were convinced that Farothwen was on the verge of death, but they did not complain. Elrond sighed. Glorohtar walked over and silently gathered Farothwen in his arms, rubbing her shoulders, glaring at the twins.  
  
Glorfindel was the first to break the stony silence. 'Farothwen, Glorohtar, Beleglor. I will apologise, as the sons of Elrond are entrusted to my care, and therefore they are my responsibility. I am sorry.' He bowed his head.  
  
Elrohir spoke up. 'No, Glorfy,' he said, using the nickname for Glorfindel that he hadn't used since he came of age. 'It was my fault. It was my idea. Erestor was giving me the sh-' A sharp look from Celebrían temporarily silenced him. 'Sorry, Nana. Anyway, we set the trap for Erestor, knowing that he'd be along on his morning walk. We never thought Farothwen, whom we both love dearly, would walk into it. We never knew that she would suffer so badly, since humans feel the cold much more than Elves. It was my fault, Beleglor, and I am sorry.' Elrohir's face softened, as if he finally let his fear show. Elladan looked up. 'I'm sorry too Beleglor. I guess we are no better than an Elfling. And I'm sorry for saying all those horrible things, Ada.'  
  
Elrond looked at Elladan and nodded his acceptance. He walked over to Beleglor and bowed.  
  
'I should shoulder the blame, as the lord of this realm. You were right, you entrusted your daughter to my care, and I failed you. I take responsibility for all those within my house, whether friend or child, and I failed both you and your children.'  
  
Beleglor took a deep breath and thought for a second. 'I accept your apology, Master Elrond. If what my daughter and Lady Undómiel says is true, then there was no harm done. I am sorry for getting off on the wrong foot when you and your house have been so generous to me and my children.'  
  
Both men placed their hands on their hearts and bowed in the traditional Elven gesture. Elrond smiled.  
  
'This has been put off for far too long. Your daughter and your son should finally be married, dear Beleglor.'  
  
Beleglor laughed. 'I couldn't agree more, Master Elrond.'  
  
'When?' asked Glorohtar.  
  
Celebrían scrunched her nose up, as she always did when she thought. 'Two days hence. That shall give us enough time to prepare everything. Farothwen? Glorohtar?' She looked to them for their opinion.  
  
Farothwen smiled, albeit weakly. 'Two days. That is fine by me.'  
  
Glorohtar nodded. 'And me.'  
  
'Good!' Celebrían said. 'I shall alert the cooks and my maids.' She left to do just that. Elladan and Elrohir had slinked silently away after the apologies, and Erestor left in huff long before that. Elrond smiled.  
  
'What chaos. Welcome to Rivendell, Master Beleglor.'  
  
--------------------------------------------  
  
Sellath nin - My daughters. 


	26. Preparations

That night, Farothwen was fine. Elladan and Elrohir had overestimated her condition and truly thought that she was in mortal danger. No harm was done to her (or them) except for a large fright. At star-opening, as usual, they came to the board with the rest of Elrond's numerous household and were enjoying a friendly feast.

Elrond stood to make various announcements, as was his role. The whole of Rivendell was abuzz with wedding rumours slipped by one of Celebrían's maids, Glorwen. Elrond confirmed the scuttlebutt with a smile that the wedding shall take place two days from then, in the morning, and everyone was certainly most invited. Farothwen and Glorohtar could hardly contain their glee as everyone looked at each other excitedly. The happy atmosphere was brought to an abrupt end as Elrond told everyone of Elladan and Elrohir's morning exploits and made them publicly apologise, which Erestor accepted with as much dignity he could muster. Everyone retired to bed happy, some going on to the Hall of Fire for the nightly short tale as told by Lindir. 

Come morning, the whole of Rivendell was being prepared. The central square was being set up and decorated. Celebrían and her maidens enlisted as much help as they could muster, Arwen leading a team to gather blossoms and greenery. The air was warming up and nearly all the snow had melted. The air was heavy with birdsong and also lone minstrels practicing for the next morning. Harps and flutes also sounded in the valley. Two of Celebrían's maidens, Bainwen and Tauriel, tied up Beleglor for the day, trying out various robes to see which one fit. Glorwen and another maid, Mornel, helped put the finishing touches on Glorohtar's set of robes. Celebrían worked solo on Farothwen's gown, Arwen eventually coming to help her as the sun set. At the evening's feast, Celebrían and Arwen looked smug as they refused to tell Farothwen anything of her dress, no matter how sweetly she pleaded.

'Come on, Celebrían, please, will you even tell me of the colour?' Farothwen begged.

Celebrían smiled sweetly and shook her head. 'No, my dear. This has to be a complete surprise.' Mother and daughter shared a mischievous look as they ate. Farothwen shook her head and smiled.

'Fine, fine, I suppose I shall have to wait until tomorrow.'

'I suppose you shall,' replied Arwen. At that moment, she also looked up and smiled at Glorohtar, their Elven eyes exchanging some secret message unknown to Farothwen. Glorohtar smiled back and blushed slightly. Beleglor observed this and smiled knowingly. Farothwen's eyes widened with disbelief as she realised her father and her beloved also knew what her dress looked like.

'Eru, everyone knows except me!'

Beleglor chuckled. 'We had to know. I had to keep your inquisitive eyes from searching for it, since that is your nature.'

'Ada, do you really mistrust me that much?'

Beleglor exchanged looks with Glorohtar and smiled. 'Yes.'

Farothwen laughed. 'I have always been an inquisitive soul, that is true.'

'You were the bane of my existence when you were small, young lady. At least Rochatar looked after you. He always used to find you when you wandered off.' Beleglor sighed. 'I wish I could have let you have your freedom, Farothwen. But it was far too dangerous. You always had that wanderlust.'

'I understand, Ada, but I'm free now, and I'm happy.' She reached over and grabbed his hand. 'Don't worry about me. I'm fine.'

Beleglor smiled and squeezed her hand. 'I know. You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you like this, like a wild animal released from its cage. And how proud I am of you.'

He looked up at the moon. 'Goodness! It is getting late, you must away to bed.'

Farothwen looked up. 'Ada, it is only seven o'clock.'

Beleglor squinted. 'Oh. The moon is different in Mirkwood. But alas, I feel like an old man, the journey's weariness catching up to me. I must away to bed, so I may enjoy tomorrow.'

The feast was slowly starting to end, most leaving the hall for the Hall of Fire or other places. Lord Elrond and his house and his guests were virtually the only ones who remained. Beleglor stood up and kissed his children goodnight. He lingered with Farothwen.

'Please try to sleep tonight, _iell nin_. I want you to look beautiful for the morrow, and that means not staying up till dawn with worry. Everything will go perfectly tomorrow, I promise. Good night.'

Farothwen smiled. 'I will try, Ada, but you know me, I worry far too much. Good night.'

Beleglor left the table as everyone else prepared to leave for their nightly pursuits. Erestor was off to the library, Glorfindel to visit Asfaloth, Elladan and Elrohir to the archery range, and Celebrían and Arwen to make the final touches to the wedding clothes. Elrond smiled at his two young charges, whose impending union brought a happiness to his people that he had not seen for a long time, and for that he was eternally grateful. Already talk of children was buzzing among the gossip merchants. Elrond would have normally put a stop to it, but hope was hard to find in Imladris, now that the time of the Elves is over.

He laid a hand on Farothwen's shoulder. 'Farothwen, go to the Hall of Fire. Lindir is singing a beautiful lay tonight, one that is very calming. I think it would be good for you.'

She smiled. 'Thank you, Master Elrond. I fear I may need as much calm as I can get.' Elrond was right; Farothwen was looking very frazzled and she and Lindir were friends, although she no longer sang as she used to. The Hall of Fire would do her the world of good.

Elrond and Glorohtar, the only ones left at the table, watched her leave. Elrond turned to him. 'Glorohtar, come for a walk with me.'

Glorohtar nodded and followed Elrond out into the garden, seen by none. He and Elrond walked in the moonlight under the blossoming trees, Elrond carefully steering him away from the main square, taking paths known by very few.

'How are you feeling?' Elrond asked.

'I'm excited. I just can't wait to see her in her dress, it is the most beautiful one I have ever seen. Lady Celebrían must have skills that extend to the mind.'

'Why do you say that?' Elrond replied, clearly amused. 

'Because she will look as beautiful as she did the night I first met her.'

Elrond smiled. 'I am glad. After the hardships you have both faced, you deserve happiness.'

Doubt cast a shadow over Glorohtar's fair face. 'But what of the hardships we may face in the future?'

Elrond stopped. 'What do you mean?'

'This kind of union is very rare, and we have faced many difficulties back in Mirkwood. Will we face them here?'

Elrond smiled. 'Of course not. For I myself am a product of such two loving unions between Man and Elf, and I promise you no harm will come to you within Imladris. Outside, though, I cannot make such a promise.'

'I don't think that either of us shall make such a journey again for a long time.' Glorohtar looked at Elrond. 'But, if we have children, what difficulties will befall them?'

'They will have a choice to make that is very difficult. I have made this choice, and due to my human blood, my children will make this choice as well. They shall have to choose whether to belong to the Eldar or to become mortal.'

'When will the choice have to be made?'

'I do not know. For my children, it is when I leave these shores. For yours, I guess it will be when Farothwen's life ends.'

Glorohtar sighed. 'I do not want to think such thoughts, but eventually the time will come when I will lose her. How much time we have left together, I cannot tell.'

'My guess is that she will live into her third century. She has only just come to womanhood in the measure of her people. Don't worry, Glorohtar, she will live for many long years yet. But have you thought about what will happen when she does fade?'

Glorohtar nodded. 'I would die to be with her, hope that my soul is counted among the mortal, for I will gladly suffer that fate.'

Elrond sighed. 'Sometimes I wish I had chosen that fate, as my beloved brother did. It has been many long years since he passed, and yet I miss him so. It breaks my heart to linger upon this earth and watch the Elves fade, our time over. I have known no other life. But then I look upon my wife and children and I am reminded of why I chose to be counted among the Eldar, for I would not be parted from them, even to see Elros again.'

Glorohtar smiled slightly. 'Should I see him, I will give him your love.' He looked grave. 'When will you leave?'

'I do not know yet. There is something I must do before I go, and I have to make sure it is done.'

'Shall it be within Farothwen's lifetime?'

'I do not think so. It may be within the lifetime of your children, but my foresight cannot let me see that far. But never mind, Glorohtar. Focus on more present things, like tomorrow morning!' Elrond looked at the skies. 'Goodness, it is getting late. Go to sleep, child. Tomorrow will be wonderful, I promise you.'

Glorohtar smiled. 'I know. Thank you, Master Elrond. For everything.'

'Feel no need. It brings me much happiness to see you in love. You have no idea how much hope you have given us.'

'It is all we can give to repay our debt to you, for sheltering us, loving us, and saving my wife.'

Elrond smiled. 'Your debt has already been repaid twice over. Dream of happiness, Glorohtar. Good night. I have a feeling Glorwen and Mornel will come and get you in the morning.' He had forgotten to mention the part where the excited maidens would probably drag him bodily from his bed.

Glorohtar bowed. 'Good night, Master Elrond,' he said, and walked off to bed, where Lindir had placed Farothwen after enchanting her with his words, singing her to sleep, as he knew that she would not sleep on her own. Glorohtar smiled when he found her there, being careful not to disturb her, falling in the dream-sleep of Elves.

Elrond sat on a bench with his thoughts. He was very fond of Glorohtar, but what he saw when he looked into his future disturbed him. All he could see was sorrow.


	27. Wedding

A/N: Here it is! The moment we've all been waiting for: the wedding of Glorohtar and Farothwen. This is by no means the end of the story, but thank you anyway to all those who have read it. It's been around for about 18 months now, and I only hope it will get better as time goes on. :D I hope you enjoy. 

Farothwen was gently shaken from her dreamless sleep just after sunrise, by someone softly calling her name and shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see Celebrían and Arwen standing over her. Celebrían as usual had her wide smile.

'Come, dear, it is time. Don't bother to get dressed, just come with us. We will look after you.'

Farothwen sleepily rose from her bed in her nightdress. She was a little cold, as the dawn still had a bite to it, but it warmed quickly into a beautiful spring day. Of course, every day was beautiful in Imladris, Vilya not allowing the extremes of summer and winter to hold full sway in the valley. It would snow very few times, usually towards the end of winter when it was milder. She followed Celebrían and Arwen to the chambers where she was to get ready. She expected to immediately start preparing, but Celebrían and Arwen just wanted to spend some time with her, partly to calm her nerves, which were already starting to appear. Arwen gave Farothwen some strong sweet tea which gave her energy and fully awakened her. They sat around on comfortable lounges and daybeds and talked.

Farothwen was a bit overwhelmed. 'Lady Celebrían… Lady Arwen… I really do not know how to thank you for all you have done for me.'

'Do not thank us, dear,' Celebrían replied. 'You are as family to us, and we love you as our own. It is an honour that we could help you in such a way.'

Farothwen smiled at her, tears welling in her eyes. Arwen immediately sat next to her. In the very short time they had known each other, due to their turbulent first meeting, they had become close.

Arwen put her arms around her. 'Oh, sweetard! Do not cry! We can't have you marry with red eyes!'

Farothwen laughed at her silliness in spite of her tears. 'Don't mind me, Arwen. I'm just a silly human.'

Arwen smiled. 'And we love you just the same.' She gently kissed her forehead. 'Be happy, little one. We will always be here for you.'

Farothwen looked at her. 'I know.'

Celebrían got Farothwen something small to eat, the nerves getting the better of her again. The sun rose higher, and birdsong was in the trees. It could not be more perfect. At last, the time came for Farothwen to start getting ready.

Arwen covered Farothwen's eyes with her hand, laughing at her consternation. When she finally lifted it, Farothwen was struck dumb.

Celebrían proudly held Farothwen's dress high for her to see. It was an emerald green, exactly the same colour as the dress she wore when she met Glorohtar on that fateful night that seemed so long ago, but in reality was only just over a year. The skirt and sleeves were full, trimmed with silver, as was the scooped neck. The sleeves were embroidered with silver leaves, silver bands also reaching around her arms. The dress itself was a silky velvet, soft to the touch and light to wear. A small train trailed on the ground, but it was just the right height for Farothwen. When she wore the much-taller Lady Arwen's dresses, she was forever tripping over the beautiful hems. She blushed to think of how many dresses had to be darned because of her.

Celebrían looked to Farothwen for her approval. Her question was answered with a big smile.

'It is so beautiful, Celebrían. Thank you.'

She smiled. 'The pleasure is all mine. Here, let's get you into it.'

Celebrían slid the dress easily over Farothwen's head and tied the laces at the back while Arwen adjusted the sleeves, making sure they fell properly and sitting the dress perfectly on Farothwen's slender shoulders. Celebrían brushed the dress down, wiping away non-existent specks of dirt. She beamed with pride.

'You look absolutely beautiful, my dearest. But we are not done with you yet!'

Celebrían and Arwen somehow managed to tame Farothwen's unruly waves into beautiful, sleek waves, much like the ones they bore. Her hair was almost as dark as Arwen's, but with tinges of red. They braided her hair back and set a circlet of weaved silver upon her head, a green jewel on her forehead. She was starting to relax and she revelled in this pampering. She glowed, it seemed to Arwen, and she was almost as fair as an Elf. In fact, it was sometimes easy to forget that she was not Elven, were it not for her rounded ears, a stark reminder. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks and lips were rosy, and her skin clear. She was very pale normally, her injuries not leaving her completely. At last, she was finally ready. She felt strange clad in Elven garb somewhat, but she also felt at home.

Celebrían stepped back to look at her. 'At last, you are ready. Arwen, would you bring the glass?'

Arwen nodded and carefully brought over the large looking-glass Celebrían had. Farothwen caught sight of herself. She could not believe what she was seeing. Surely this was not her. This had to be an Elven-maid. It was not Farothwen of the Dúnedain.

Farothwen carefully reached up to touch her face. This was real. It was her in the glass. She knew that Elves had magic, but she did not think they had magic such as this.

'Your beauty was there all along, Farothwen,' Celebrían said, as if reading her thoughts. 'It was just hidden under the shy exterior and the scars of a tortured past. But be tortured no longer, child. Your time has come.'

Farothwen turned and looked at Celebrían, her eyes saying more than words ever could. Celebrían gathered her in her arms and held her.

'I am glad you came to us. I am proud to call you family,' Celebrían said soothingly.

'Me too,' was all Farothwen could say.

Arwen embraced her as well. 'May you have peace, _muinthel nin_.'

'May you be blessed, _muinthel nin,_' Farothwen replied as Arwen drew back with a hand lovingly on the back of her head, her hand seeking Farothwen's. Farothwen had her other hand on Arwen's shoulder. Arwen leaned down and kissed Farothwen's brow, and then rested her forehead against hers. Celebrían laid her hand on Arwen's other shoulder.

'Undómiel, we must get ready ourselves.' She turned to Farothwen. 'Amarien is waiting outside for you, Farothwen, she shall take care of everything else. We will see you soon enough.'

Glorohtar was woken by squeals. At first he thought it was Glorwen and Mornel, but he opened his eyes to see Elladan and Elrohir jump onto his bed and shake him.

'Wake up, brother!' Elrohir cried excitedly. 'You must get ready!'

'What?' Glorohtar was a bit startled. 'Where's Farry?' he asked sleepily.

'She's with Nana and Arwen. Come on, you, you have to get dressed as well.'

Glorohtar stared at them with squinted eyes from the bright sunlight. 'Why are you on my bed?'

'Because we have to wake you up! Come on, get up!' Elladan pulled Glorohtar out of bed so sharply he almost fell to the floor.

'You're acting like a pair of Elflings. It's only my wedding day.' Glorohtar said this completely seriously, but his smile gave away his jest. The twins laughed.

'My, Glorohtar, I knew not you had a sense of humour!' Elrohir said. 'Come on, Glorwen and Mornel are waiting for you. We've got to go and get Beleglor as well. We'll see you soon!'

Glorohtar looked down. 'In my bedclothes?'

'Yes, now come on!'

Elladan and Elrohir opened the door where the equally excited handmaidens awaited Glorohtar. Elladan gave them a sneaky smile and wink while he thrust the bewildered Glorohtar out the door. Glorohtar very quickly woke up when they practically ran with him up to Celebrían's chambers. It was a sight to see as the three of them ran, black and gold hair streaming in the sunlight, wide smiles on their faces. Glorohtar was giddy with excitement and anticipation, getting caught up in the mood of everyone around him. Everyone in Rivendell was in such high spirits, this day being long awaited.

As soon as he walked into the room where he was to be dressed, Elladan and Elrohir brought in an equally giddy Beleglor. Glorohtar looked sidelong at him and the twins.

'Ada, did you just skip in here?'

Beleglor laughed heartily. 'So I did, Glor. Forgive me, this foolish old man, but it is not every day your only child is to be married.'

'Oh, you're not old. You're barely older than me.'

'And besides, no one witnessed the moment of your true marriage.'

Glorohtar bowed his head. 'That is true. I am sorry, Ada, but we had to keep it secret.'

Beleglor laid a hand on his shoulder. 'It is all right. At least we are all together now, with our new beloved friends and family.'

Glorohtar smiled. 'I think the whole of Imladris are our family now.'

Four maidens, Glorwen, Mornel, Bainwen and Tauriel, appeared with their clothes. Bainwen smiled at Glorohtar's remark.

'It is true, Master Glorohtar. Some people whom you have never even seen know your story.'

'Is everyone here?' Elladan asked. Tauriel nodded.

'The whole realm.'

Beleglor's eyes widened. 'Eru almighty! The whole of Imladris?'

Elrohir smiled. 'Some will do anything for some of our house's wine.'

Glorohtar chuckled. Glorwen smiled.

'Come on, Master Elrohir, Master Elladan, out, you have to get ready.'

'All right, all right,' replied Elladan with his hands in the air in surrender. Mornel and Bainwen pushed them out the door and went to retrieve their clothes as Glorwen and Tauriel helped Beleglor and Glorohtar dress.

Glorohtar wore leggings, boots and a tunic of silver, with an emerald green robe over the top. It was exactly the same as Farothwen's dress, even down to the embroidery. Glorohtar could not believe he was wearing such fine and beautiful clothes. He looked up at Beleglor as Tauriel tied a silver sash about his waist. Beleglor was beaming with pride.

'You look wonderful, my son, like an Elf-prince of old.'

Glorohtar surveyed Beleglor in his silver outfit. 'You don't look so bad yourself, Ada. You carry it better than me.'

'But it is not my day. It is yours.'

Glorohtar stood still while his gold hair was braided and a simple silver circlet was placed on his head, feeling awfully out of place in such fair clothing fit for royalty. Glorwen looked over at him while she braided Beleglor's hair and smiled.

'You look fine, Master Glorohtar. Do not think that you are not worthy of your clothes. They would not have been made if the Lord and Lady did not think that you would be fit for them.' She adjusted Beleglor's sleeves and stood back to survey the Elves.

'I think we are finished, Tauriel?' 

The dark-headed maiden nodded. 'We are. Now, you must take your places, the bride will be along very soon!'

Amarien completed Farothwen's outfit, giving her beaded green slippers and a beautiful bunch of white sweet-smelling spring blossoms to hold. Farothwen stood to collect her thoughts before she wandered to where she was supposed to start her walk. The courtyard made her gasp in delight. Ribbons hung everywhere, as did flowers. Every Elf in Rivendell was there, patiently awaiting her. Petals fell from the sky, seemingly, and her long path was covered with them. The whole of the armoured Imladris guard lined the path, swords in their hands, facing inward as if they were to guard her. The ones at the top held spears. In the distance she could see the Lord and Lady awaiting her, dressed in beautiful robes of rich burgundy. She took a deep breath. It was time.

At her first step, alone, Lindir sang a beautiful lay that spoke of love and adversity as Farothwen slowly made her way into the light, the only sound being Lindir's fair voice without music. Everyone stood to look, their Elvish eyes seeing how beautiful she looked. But she was not to walk all the way alone.

Halfway up the path, before she was to reach the seats of the crowd, Glorohtar stood on her right side, waiting for her. As she approached him, she could see the happiness and pride in his blue eyes, the smile wide on his face. Behind him stood Elladan and Elrohir in matching silver outfits, their smiles wide also. Arwen and Beleglor stood on the other side to accompany Farothwen, Arwen in a simple yet beautiful silver dress and holding a small bunch of flowers, and Beleglor in an outfit similar to the twins'. Arwen wore a smile, but her eyes brimmed with tears. Farothwen thought she saw tears in her fathers' eyes as well. When she stood next to Glorohtar, all five bowed to her, as was traditional. This small gesture made Farothwen cry. 

'Don't cry,' Glorohtar mouthed to her, offering his arm. She took it and they walked together towards Elrond and Celebrían, Arwen and Beleglor following Farothwen, and Elladan and Elrohir following Glorohtar. Farothwen finally broke out into a smile, the smiles of the crowd as she walked past being contagious. Not a soul present seemed less than ecstatic at the proceedings, being so long since anything as happy as a wedding took place in the valley.

Finally, after an eternity, Farothwen and Glorohtar reached the end of the path. As she walked past, the guard standing at the top of her side gently tapped Farothwen across the bottom with the handle of his spear. Farothwen turned around, shocked, and laughed when she saw the grin of Glorfindel, his helmet not completely hiding his face. Glorohtar laughed as well, glad to hear Farothwen laugh again. It had seemed so long since she did. Even Celebrían failed to hide a giggle.

With their composure regained, the six stood before Elrond and Celebrían, with Farothwen and Glorohtar in the centre. Elrond spoke first, his melodious voice heard by all. 

'My friends, we are all gathered here to witness this happy event, a rare occurrence in times such as these. We will not speak of such dark things, as today belongs to Farothwen of the Edain, and Glorohtar of the Edhil, who are here to pledge themselves once again, but this time before all their friends and loved ones.' 

Celebrían smiled benevolently, her smile very much her mother's. She spoke in her comforting, dream-like voice. 'Come forth, my children.'

Farothwen and Glorohtar took a step forward and knelt before them. 

'It has been not very long since you both came into our care,' Celebrían continued, 'and yet it seems that long we have known you. Farothwen, you came to us by the love and care of Elrohir, and for a long while it seemed that we had lost you. But even as you lay on the threshold of death, we could see an inner light and strength within you. We came to know you as a beautiful maiden with a sweet voice and an even sweeter tongue to match.'

Farothwen blushed at this point: she did not know that Celebrían had heard her singing to herself while she recovered.

'And then soon after Glorohtar came to us out of love of Farothwen. As we watched him sit by her bedside day after day, we knew how deep their love ran and what they went through in order to be together. Glorohtar was the best husband any maid could wish for. The pain in his eyes as his wife hovered between life and death was heartbreaking, but Farothwen made it through due to her strength and the knowledge that he was by her side. Not many of us can claim that love saved our lives. And now they come to the final step: swearing to each other for the second time in front of everyone they know and love. May their lives be filled with happiness and joy.'

Elrond bade them rise. 'Do you swear to each other, to be at each other's side for the rest of your lives, to love each other come what may?'

'We do,' they answered together.

'Then speak, my children,' Celebrían said, 'and let all of Imladris hear your promise!'

Farothwen and Glorohtar turned to each other, their hands joined. Glorohtar spoke first.

'What seems many moons ago, I told you that I would love you and care for you always, but I forgot to mention one thing. I forgot to tell you that I would follow you to whatever end you may face. I have already followed you this far, from Mirkwood to Imladris, and we have found happiness here. I have been given this chance to promise myself to you anew, and to tell you that when your days end upon this earth, mine will as well. I will follow you beyond the circles of this world into eternity, my soul resting with those of men, forever bound with yours. Our days together may only seem short in the eyes of my kind, but they shall be the happiest days that any of the Edhil shall have. I choose a mortal life to be with you, and though my life shall fade, my love never will.'

Tears glistened in Farothwen's eyes as she heard this promise, Celebrían fearing that she was so overwhelmed that she would not be able to speak. Glorohtar gently smiled and wiped her tears away as soon as she took a deep breath.

'They say that the gift of The One was given to Men, in the form of mortality. Although I am long-lived for one of my kind, my days are still short in the eyes of the Eldar. I only wish that I was one of them, so that I may spend the rest of eternity with you. Many look upon death as the end, but it is not. Love can survive death, and when my days end, my love for you will endure. In the months that have followed our promise, nothing in my mind has changed, except that my resolve has become even stronger. I shall bind myself to you again as your wife, and I promise that I will be by your side no matter what evil may befall us, just as you stayed by mine. I am in debt to you for that, and I shall spend the rest of my life trying to repay you. I only hope that my love is enough.'

Glorohtar himself looked on the verge of tears. 'You have no debt with me,' he mouthed as they turned to face their Lord and Lady.

'We have heard these solemn vows,' Elrond said. 'And we give these two our leave to live as they please for the rest of their lives.'

'We have all come to love them,' Celebrían said, 'and we will give them all our greatest wishes for their future together.' 

Elrond took Farothwen's face in his hands and kissed her brow, Celebrían kissing Glorohtar in the same way.

Elrond smiled as he wiped Farothwen's tears away.

'Now they are bound, both in our eyes and the eyes of the Valar,' Celebrían declared.

'Forever husband and wife, and we give them our deepest blessings,' Elrond finished. 'Glorohtar?' he prompted.

Glorohtar turned to Farothwen and smiled. He placed a hand on her cheek, marvelling at how beautiful she was, but he could wait no longer for this moment. Taking Farothwen by surprise, he quickly and passionately kissed her, holding her close to him. Then she embraced him, laughing in her happiness.

There was not a sad face nor a dry eye among the crowd, who applauded and cheered loudly. Farothwen and Glorohtar led the way back down the path towards the feast hall, Arwen, Beleglor and the twins after them, then Glorfindel and the rest of the royal guard. Farothwen and Glorohtar practically ran to the hall, not being able to wait until they could properly thank their loved ones away from the formality and tradition of a wedding. 


	28. Feast

The whole crowd followed Farothwen and Glorohtar to the feast hall, everyone in high spirits. When Farothwen turned to see everyone, she laughed when she saw the joyful faces of the Elves. Their beauty and happiness warmed her heart. At last she had helped give back what they had helped give her. 

Everyone filed into the feast hall, Farothwen, Glorohtar and their party seated at the high table that overlooked the hall, in the seats that were normally reserved for the Lord and Lady. Farothwen, Glorohtar and Beleglor had never sat at this table before, feeling very out of place as they did so. Farothwen gently ran her hand over the beautifully carved chair that usually belonged to Celebrían, feeling very honoured indeed to be sitting in her place.

Seated on Glorohtar's end of the table of eight, Elrond stood, prompting all present to do the same. He cleared his throat.

'Now is not the time for lengthy speeches and lays,' he said, 'for tonight belongs to all of us in the celebration of these two people, whom we have come to know and love dearly. Now is the time to feast, drink, dance and be merry, for happy times such as these are becoming rare to us.' He raised his goblet. 'Hail Glorohtar and Farothwen! May their lives be filled with joy!'

'Hail!' the Elves cried, and all drank to them. Elrond then smiled and gestured to the long tables that filled the hall.

'Let the feast begin!'

Food was brought quickly to the tables, much to the delight of the Elves, for it was a long time since a feast of this scale was held. All manner of dishes was brought to them, including many meats, fruits, vegetables, salads, soups, and nuts, plus plenty of fine wine to go with it. The Elves merrily ate, their conversation and laughter filling the hall. Farothwen also ate, as she had not eaten all day and her nerves soon gave way to hunger. She had hoped Lord Elrond had not heard her stomach grumble as she knelt before him. She laughed at the thought as Glorohtar graciously carved a piece of venison for her.

'What are you laughing at?' he asked her with a twinkle in his eye.

She smiled at him. 'Nothing.'

He placed a hand on her cheek. 'You looked so beautiful today. I'm so proud of you.' He gently kissed her. 'I love you so much, Farry.'

'I love you too, Glorohtar.' Farothwen took his hand. 'Thank you. For everything.'

He rewarded her with a slight smile, as handsome and gorgeous as he was when they first met, his blue eyes full of light and happiness, the silver circlet on his golden head making him look like a great Elf-prince. Although she loved him, Farothwen was in awe of him and still felt inferior.

'I would do it all again,' Glorohtar said in his gentle voice, 'as long as I had you by my side. I would do anything for you, and I hope that you'll always remember that.' He took her right hand, forever scarred by her torment in the Ered Hithaeglir, and kissed it. 'I will die for you.'

Tears appeared in her eyes. 'I know,' Farothwen whispered.

'My love, do not cry. There will be time for sadness, but it is not now. Be happy. This day is for us.' He wiped her tears and kissed her again. 'Come on,' he smiled, 'cheer up. If you do not dance by the end of the night, I shall be sorely disappointed.'

Farothwen laughed. 'I cannot dance, Glor.'

'How do you know? You've never even tried!'

'All right. I will dance tonight, just for you, even though I do not possess the style or grace of your people.'

Glorohtar leaned in and whispered in her ear. 'After a few glasses of wine, neither do they.'

Farothwen laughed loudly. This got Beleglor's attention as he was talking to Arwen, who was seated next to him. He looked to see her laughing, the happiest she had been for a while. She didn't see his huge smile nor the tears of pride in his eyes. Arwen smiled wisely. 'You should be proud, Master Beleglor. She is a fine woman, and you gave her the best possible start.'

'But she only blossomed with Glorohtar's love. I kept her sheltered all these years.'

'That was for her own good, you know that. But now she is grown and she has chosen her own fate. She is wild and free, as she should be. Let her go to live her own life.'

'I have, Lady Arwen. Her life is no longer in my hands. Her future lies with Glorohtar, dearer than son, and to whatever path they may take together. I can still see the day when she was but a baby, lying in my arms. She is not a child anymore.'

'You are still her father, no matter what happens. She will still need you.'

'As I will need her.'

The feast was starting to wind down, the tables almost clear. Everyone present was starting to slowly drift out to the main courtyard, and the musicians were preparing. The sun was setting on the western horizon, and the courtyard was decorated beautifully with strings of candles and garlands among the trees.

Farothwen turned to Glorohtar and smiled. 'I'm ready to take you up on your challenge.'

'I'm ready to see you.' He turned to Lord Elrond at the end of the table. 'My lord, may we have your leave to join the rest?'

'Of course, Glorohtar! We are ready to dance ourselves. All formality ends here. This is for you, go and dance!'

Glorohtar and Farothwen got up and bowed to the table, thanking them for their wedding, and then ran to join the party in full swing outside.

Celebrían watched them go, and turned to her daughter. 'I can only hope that you will be so happy, Arwen.'

'I do too, Nana. But I fear for them. I have a feeling that something will befall them.'

'Nothing will happen for many years yet, my dearest. Come, will you dance? I'm sure everyone is wondering if you can dance as well as your foremother.'

Arwen chuckled. 'I fear that many will be disappointed, but I will try.' She turned to Beleglor on her other side and stood. 

'Master Beleglor, may I have this dance?' she asked, offering her hand. He smiled, kissed her hand, and stood.

'I would be honoured, Lady Undómiel.' He offered his arm and led her out of the hall as her family also stood to join the party.

The music was very fast and lively, and the Elves were dancing accordingly. Glorohtar was right: some of them were not as graceful as they may have been normally, but Farothwen was enjoying the sight as she danced next to Amarien and Tauriel, Glorohtar content to watch her from the sidelines. She danced with her arms in the air, twirling about occasionally, giving her husband a few sneaky looks as she did so. He laughed and applauded. Farothwen was so caught up in the music she didn't realise she was standing on her skirts. She took one step backwards and tripped, falling back, crying out. Luckily, the head of the Imladris Guard was there to catch her.

As she fell into the arms of Glorfindel, she could hear his melodious laugh. 'Ah, Mistress Farothwen, fancy seeing you here!'

She laughed as he placed her on her feet. 'Well, Master Glorfindel, trust this Adan to be the most ungraceful of all gathered here.'

'At least you are sober. Besides, I would not want to be responsible for you hitting your bottom for the second time today.'

Farothwen giggled. 'I was glad for that. I was so close to tears, a laugh was what I needed.'

'And yet you still cried.'

'What can I say, I'm a soft soul.'

Glorfindel smiled. 'Between you and me, I was glad I was wearing that helmet. I think nearly all of us were in tears.' He held his hand out as the music changed to a slightly slower song. 'May I have this dance?'

'Would you catch me again if I fell on you?'

He grinned. 'Of course.' He took her hand and before Farothwen knew it, she was swept up into an energetic dance that required all her energy just to keep up with Glorfindel as they moved as a part of a larger circle of dancers, mostly the younger Elves. Farothwen did not know the dance, but she learned quickly that it required a lot of spinning. Glorfindel spun her around twice and then let go, and Farothwen's hands were taken by Elladan as the maidens moved onto their new partners. Elladan laughed at her face as they danced, taking care to be slightly more gentle than the vigorous Glorfindel.

'You look ever so dizzy, Farothwen.'

'That's because I am!'

Thankfully, Farothwen was beginning to pick up the steps and she knew what to expect as Elladan spun her to meet Elrohir. He was even gentler with her than Elladan.

'You looked so beautiful, Farothwen. We're all so proud of you.'

'I have you to thank, Elrohir. If you did not hear me, I would have died.'

'It makes us all happy to see you in bliss. You will stay, won't you?'

Farothwen smiled as he spun her. 'Of course!'

She looked up to see that she had fallen into Glorohtar's arms. He was grinning. 

'You passed the challenge admirably.'

'Good to hear!'

Glorohtar and Farothwen did not know the steps as well as the Rivendell Elves, so they occasionally bumped into Elrohir and Bainwen beside them, who did not mind a bit. As Glorohtar spun Farothwen to meet her next partner, the music stopped. All the Elves applauded the wonderful musicians. A slow song started up, and everyone was dancing, even the elder Elves. Glorohtar held Farothwen close and gently swayed to the music. Farothwen laid her head on his chest.

'At last we're finally here,' Glorohtar said, 'among our family and friends. The whole of Arda now knows how much I love you.'

Farothwen looked up at him and smiled. 'I'm so glad. We've waited so long and been through so much…'

Farothwen bowed her head, thinking of the torment both she and Glorohtar had suffered at the hands of Hirogaer, and Farothwen's torture in the mountains, the reminders of which would never go away. Glorohtar took Farothwen's scarred hand in his, his fingers interlacing with hers.

'Farothwen. Look at me.'

With his other hand he tilted her chin up to look at him. He cupped her face in his hands.

'I promise you that I will keep you safe. I promise you that I will not let you be hurt again in any way, and I would die to keep my promise. I would rather suffer a thousand hurts than see you cry out of sadness again. Smile for me, my love. Laugh and be happy.'

'I am happy, Glor. I am happier than you will ever know. But our path will be filled with sadness.'

'I know, but that will not come to pass for many years yet. Do not look to the future just yet. For now, it's just you and me and that is all I need.'

Glorohtar gently caressed Farothwen's cheek and she smiled. She looked so beautiful in that moment, in the light of the dusk, the stars and the candles, under the blossoming trees, the stone in her circlet, the same colour as her eyes, glittering, that he could not wait a moment longer. He kissed her deeply, passionately, his touch saying so much more than words ever could. She kissed him with just as much love and passion, the nimble fingers on her left hand gently running through his hair and delicately touching the pointed tips of his ears. It seemed like an eternity before their lips parted, and yet no one saw what had just happened. Silently, their arms resumed their place around each other, Farothwen's head on Glorohtar's chest. Farothwen giggled as she looked around at the slow dancing Elves.

Glorohtar smiled, looking down at her. 'What is it?'

Farothwen indicated with her eyes. 'Ada.'

Glorohtar looked over and grinned. Beleglor was dancing with the Lady Arwen, much in the same manner as Glorohtar and Farothwen, apart from the obvious height difference. Farothwen smiled. Her father looked to be genuinely happy for the first time in his life, and he looked ever so sweet dancing with Arwen.

Glorohtar's eye caught a couple over Farothwen's shoulder. 'Look at that,' he said.

Farothwen turned around and saw Celebrían and Elrond dancing together. They complemented each other so well, and were the perfect couple. 

'No one can be more in love than they,' said Farothwen. 'Even after thousands of years of marriage.'

Glorohtar smiled. 'Be fair, my love. We have to condense thousands of years of love and marriage into a couple of hundred years.'

'Think we can do it?'

'Of course!'

The slow song finished, and everyone clapped. A lively song started, and many of the older Elves left to sit on the side, including Glorohtar, who farewelled Farothwen with a kiss. She danced beside Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen, while Glorfindel danced with a pretty blonde maiden nearby. Farothwen saw her father nearby. 

'Ada! Dance with us!'

He smiled and shook his head. 'No, my dearest, I'll just sit this one out. I'm not a good dancer.'

'I beg to differ, Master Beleglor,' Arwen replied. 'Come!'

Elladan and Elrohir dragged Beleglor by his sleeves into their circle, Beleglor feigning reluctance. Farothwen spotted Elrond talking to Erestor.

'Master Elrond! Master Erestor! Come join us!'

Erestor smiled. 'I would be honoured, Mistress Farothwen.'

Elladan and Elrohir's jaws dropped. Erestor had never, ever danced or even attended any sort of party as long as they had walked this earth.

'W-why the sudden change of heart, Erestor?' stammered Elladan.

'Oh please, Elladan. Even the most stuffiest advisor has to let his hair down sometime,' Erestor replied as he danced rather well next to Arwen. Elladan and Elrohir had to admit, he had loosened up a bit ever since Arwen was born, out of his love for her.

Elrond politely shook his head. 'Not tonight, Farothwen, but thank you.'

'Oh, Ada! You haven't danced properly for ages!' Elrohir protested.

'I just danced with your mother.'

'That's not properly!' Elladan dragged Elrond into the circle. 'Loosen up! Have a night off! Have _fun_, Ada!'

'I am having fun, Elladan!' He sighed. 'Oh, all right, I will,' he grumbled. 'For Farothwen.'

'That's the spirit, Ada!' Elrohir cried as the pipe started up. He took Elladan's arms and both of them danced a wonderful jig in the middle of the circle, everyone else clapping to the beat and laughing in delight. When the song finished, there was a large applause as Elladan and Elrohir breathlessly bowed. Elrond clapped loudest and grinned widest.

'Who taught you that?' he asked.

Elladan grinned and looked over to someone to the side. 'Nana did.'

Elrond looked at his wife in surprise, who grinned back sheepishly. After nearly three thousand years together, she was still full of surprises.

That was the last song, as the moon was high and everyone was tired and needed to go to bed. Farothwen and Glorohtar stood at the top of the stairs and thanked everyone for coming as they headed past them towards their own beds. Everyone stopped to hug and kiss them and wish them luck, which was answered with a lot of smiles. At last, Elrond, Celebrían, Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, Beleglor, Erestor and Glorfindel walked up the stairs. Farothwen embraced each one of them, thanking them profusely. She was met with smiles and hugs and kisses, as was Glorohtar.

Finally, they were left alone on the stairway.

'Farry,' Glorohtar said, 'I can honestly say that this has been the best day of my life.'

She smiled at him. 'Mine too. I hope we have many more happy days like this to come.'

'Maybe not, for today will be hard to beat.'

'I know, Glor.'

Glorohtar's hand slid around her waist. Farothwen turned her head and kissed him.

'I love you,' she said.

'I love you too. Come on,' he said, taking her hand, 'let's get to bed.'

They slowly walked up to their room, stopping to marvel at the beautiful night that was given to them, under the stars and moonlight. But finally, fatigue overtook beauty, and they retired to bed, blissful and peaceful at last. 


	29. Riders

A/N: My apologies for making you wait so long! There's a few new and interesting people coming in to play in this half, so I hope you enjoy.

Autumn, 2496 TA

Farothwen and Glorohtar were now approaching the sixth month of their marriage and well and truly settled into The Last Homely House, along with Beleglor, carving out roles for themselves. Beleglor's love of music was too strong, and now he often walked beside Lindir, his hand much preferring the harp to the bowstring, his sweet voice often filling the Hall of Fire at night.

Glorohtar had encouraged Farothwen to finish her weapons training, but she would not. Her torment in the caverns had scarred her in so many ways, and she wished not to be involved in violence, whether she was wielding the sword or not. She also did not wish to sing as she once had, looking for a vocation that she felt would repay the debt for the immense kindness and love the Elves had given her, although many of them insisted several times over that there was no such debt. Celebrían's maidens Rhiwien and Caranlas were teaching her to weave on the massive loom, making beautiful clothes, but she had not yet found her talent.

Glorohtar had chosen to ride out with the hunting parties to hunt deer and boar, plus whatever birds he could find for food for all of Rivendell. This worried Farothwen, as they almost always had to leave the protection of Rivendell's borders, but Glorohtar always assured her that he was safe. 

The weather was starting to become crisp and cool, the slight wind shaking the trees' branches enough for beautiful leaves of gold and red to fall. Every season they had spent there, Rivendell looked more and more beautiful. It was quiet for the most part, nothing much happening except the normal comings and goings of the hunting parties, the guards, and messengers from the other Elven realms sending tidings of not much importance to Elrond. Messages flowed freely from the Golden Wood of Lothlórien, as the Lord and Lady, Celeborn and Galadriel, were the parents of Lady Celebrían.

Farothwen awoke to find Glorohtar gone, leaving early for the hunt, which happened every other day. Cloud covered the skies, and it looked as if it would rain. The wind was unusually strong, sweeping leaves around Farothwen, catching her hair and the sleeves of her dress. She felt slightly uneasy about this day, but then she snapped herself out of it. It meant nothing.

She rolled the sleeves of her underdress up and tied them in place. She was wearing a simple dress, as she was working on the loom. She quickly braided her hair off her face as she crossed the courtyard to the hall where the loom was located. Suddenly there came the sounds of horses' hooves, loud, as if there were many. She looked up. About twenty horses were in the courtyard, all carrying riders, some of whom were badly injured. A man looked at Farothwen, panic and blood on his face.

'Quick, lady! Get Lord Elrond!'

Farothwen nodded, and ran to get Elrond who was in his library, not very far away. Farothwen burst in the door, causing him to look up from his parchment.

'Farothwen! What's wrong?'

'There are injured riders here. Hurry!'

He ran after her to the courtyard, where the riders were waiting. There were groans and cries from the injured, while the healthy riders tried to treat them and calm them as best they could.

Elrond looked them over and checked the nearest of the riders, who had been speared. There was a lot of blood, and they needed healing quickly.

'Farothwen! In the healing rooms there is a black pouch on top of the right shelf. Get it, and some blankets, quickly!'

Farothwen ran down to the healing rooms, where all of Elrond's supplies were housed. She grabbed the pouch as he said and a mound of blankets and was met at the top of the stairs by Celebrían and a younger elf named Elenion, who also helped with the healing.

'Come, Farothwen. Elrond and I will care for those who are injured most. You and Elenion will take care of those with lesser wounds.'

'But, Celebrían, I don't know how-'

'Elenion will show you. Come on!'

Celebrían thrust a pouch into her hands that contained bandages and pads. Elenion grabbed her arm and took her over to the lesser injured riders, who had climbed off their horses to care for those who were worse. Elenion started bandaging the riders' relatively superficial wounds, and Farothwen picked up on it quickly, cleaning wounds, applying bandages and calming those who were panicked and in pain.

Farothwen approached the rider who had spoken to her, bleeding from a cut to his head. His brown hair was arrayed about his shoulders, the trail of blood trickling down past his large hazel eyes into his short beard, his brown tunic stained with dark Orc blood. He was bleeding from a small cut in his lip, and his hands were also covered in blood, and he looked weary and dirty from many days' long travel. But he was alert and concerned.

'Hirgon! Hirgon!' he cried as the rider with the spear wound was taken down into Elrond's chambers, along with a few others. Farothwen knelt beside him, dipping a pad in a bowl of water and gently wiping the dry blood from his face.

'Rest now, your friend is safe,' she told him. 'Lord Elrond will take care of him.'

He sighed. 'I do not deny Lord Elrond's skills, but only Hirgon's strength.'

'Do not worry. Lord Elrond has the power to heal those who do not have any strength left.'

'I hope so.' The man looked hard at Farothwen. 'You are no Elf?'

Farothwen smiled. 'No. I am a Dúnadan, and I reside here by Lord Elrond's generosity.'

'I am a Dúnadan also, and yet I have never seen you before. Who are you?'

'My name is Farothwen.' She started clumsily wrapping a bandage around the man's head. 'I was not brought up among you. In fact, you are the first one of my kind I have spoken to.' 

'Why have you not been here among us, your kin? Surely you have tried to seek us out?'

Farothwen fell silent when she heard the words of 'your kin', spoken with such gentleness. She thought for a while before giving her answer. 

'I was raised far from here. I would not have known where to find you.' Farothwen tied the bandage. 'Do you suffer any other hurts?'

The man looked at her in wonder. 'No, but a great curiosity has now overtaken me. Where did you come from, Farothwen? Who were your parents? How did you end up here among the Elves?'

Farothwen shook her head. 'Alas, lord, I do not know. I have often wished I did, but I don't. But I am happy here among my family and would trade them for no other.'

The man nodded. 'I understand. But I would like to take you with us when we return, so we could see if we could find your kin.' He remembered something. 'Oh, do not think me rude! My name is Morandir, and these are my men. We were riding out on patrol when we were ambushed. The skirmish was short, but I fear my group of rangers are beyond aid.'

Curiosity pressed Farothwen. 'Are you the leader of the Dúnedain?'

Morandir smiled and shook his head. 'No. I am just one of the many captains. Arahad is our chieftain.'

Before Farothwen could ask any more, Celebrían returned while Elrond worked tirelessly now with Elenion's assistance. Those who could stand, including Morandir, rushed over asking for news. Celebrían looked at her, surmising what had just happened. Now she wondered - whether Farothwen would remain here with them, or if she would become a Ranger of the North, doomed to roam the wilds of Eriador without peace. 

Glorohtar returned in the early afternoon with the hunting party, carrying a haul of rabbits and a large buck. Farothwen ran to greet him, and he saw the bloodstains on her dress.

'Farothwen! Are you all right?'

'What?' She looked down. 'I'm fine. A group of rangers were ambushed near here and they came to us, and I helped a little. I'm all right.'

The worry disappeared from Glorohtar's face as he embraced her. 'I was scared for a second.' He took her hands, and then frantically felt her left one. 'Where's your ring?'

Farothwen gasped, and then patted down her pockets. She sighed as she produced the silver ring so dear to her. She slipped it back onto her finger. 'I must have taken it off so as not to get blood on it.'

The ring was a simple silver one that she wore as a sign of her binding to Glorohtar. Elves need no symbol; the light in their eyes and the warmth of their voice tells if they are bound. But this was not the case for Farothwen, so she wore a ring instead.

'Are the riders all right?' He asked her.

She nodded. 'There were some that were hurt badly but I think Elrond can heal them. But Glorohtar!' There was a light in her eyes that Glorohtar had never seen. 'They are Dúnedain! My kin!'

Glorohtar smiled, but a worry lay on his heart. _I promised I would follow her to whatever end, but what if she wants to live with the rangers? I would not have her leave, now that we have just begun our lives together anew in Imladris. What shall I do?_

'How long will they stay?' he asked.

Farothwen shrugged. 'Until all of them are well, I guess. That could take weeks.'

Glorohtar took a deep breath. 'Will you go with them?'

'What?' She looked up. 'No, no. I will only spend time with them here. I would not leave you even if my family awaited me out there. My heart tells me it would not be worth meeting them. Maybe, in another time, in another place. But not here. We are too different.'

'Why?'

'They ride, they fight, they roam the wilds, or so their captain tells me. I have waited so long for a place I can call home, Glor, and I would not leave it. Especially since I have you and Ada to come back to.'

He smiled and embraced her, kissing her brow. 'I would not have you leave. I could not bear it.'

'You know I would not, for any reason.' 

A/N: Just a little note of interest: if Elenion in any way seems familiar, he is. Some would know him as Melpomaen, most would know him as Figwit. I love the delicious haughtiness of this Elf, so I thought it would be a perfect role for him. You'll see a lot more of Elenion to come, promise.


	30. Trauma

A/N: Once again, my many thousands of humblest apologies for effectively abandoning this story. I'm chipping away at it, and I have many pages ready for upload while I start writing the rest. The action from here on in is thick and fast, so my apologies if this seems a little rushed. I do want to finish this as quickly as possible, and I don't want to deprive you of an ending. Thank you for sticking with me so far through this awful mess!

The Dúnedain looked as if they would stay for a few weeks, as their most badly injured riders would take a while to heal, with a stomach wound and a shattered sword arm among the hurts. Hirgon, the worst off, was Morandir's best friend, and Morandir would sit by his bedside day after day, only leaving it to eat, making Elenion promise him he would tell him if there were any news in his absence. Farothwen would often come and sit with him, spending most of her time not at the loom but in the places of healing. Healing gave her a satisfaction she could not find by any other means, and she decided that that was what she wanted to do. Elrond was glad; he needed another helper and he thought Elenion could do with a companion.

Farothwen would watch Morandir sit there, hardly moving, holding Hirgon's hand in his and wonder. He seemed so fierce and quick to anger, and yet he had this gentle side. His devotion to Hirgon was so touching, but Farothwen was worried about his lack of sleep.

'You should sleep. We will look after him.'

'I do not doubt your care,' he replied, 'but I wish to stay with him. If he wakes and I am not there, I could not bear it. We have known each other since we were children and I would not want him to think that I had abandoned him.'

'I understand, Morandir. But please try to take some sleep. I shall ask Master Elrond to put a bed in here, if you wish.'

Morandir nodded. 'I would like that very much.'

Elenion then came with a fresh dressing, and to check the wound.

'How is it healing, Elenion?' Farothwen asked.

'It seems fine, there's no infection. But we were lucky, any longer and he would have been lost. It will take a while to heal completely, but,' he smiled at Morandir, 'these Dúnedain are made of sterner stuff than we expected. Once he is healed, there is no reason why he can no longer ride, or so it seems to me, but I shall have to ask Lord Elrond to make sure.'

Morandir smiled slightly, the first time Farothwen had seen him do so for a while. 'That's good. Hirgon belongs in the wilds, not left behind. He would suffer much if he could not ride through the lands he loves.'

Morandir spoke wistfully, as if he were talking about himself. Elenion noticed that he seemed as if he were caged in Rivendell, eager to be riding in the dangerous wilderness once more, and he had only been here a few days. Elenion noticed a change in Farothwen, too. Morandir's wanderlust and what he had told her about their people had stirred something within her, like she too wanted to become a ranger. Elenion shook his head slightly. She would not leave Glorohtar. She loved him too much.

Farothwen walked around the pathways and sighed, more than one leaf falling onto her head. She didn't care. She sat on a stone bench, the autumn leaves crunching under her. She felt so lonely.

Glorohtar was gone again. Every second day, he would go out with the other Elves to hunt, and he would leave at dawn and return at dusk. Normally, Farothwen would go to the healing place, but she felt superfluous, as Elenion and Elrond were more than capable of healing the Dúnedain by themselves. Elladan and Elrohir had gone on an expedition with Glorfindel, to where she did not know. Celebrían was busy with her duties, and Beleglor was spending all his time with Lindir. Morandir wasn't the best company, as he was too worried about Hirgon, and his sadness drowned Farothwen's spirit.

She wished Glorohtar had never volunteered for the hunting party. The worry of him not coming back was making her ill, plus the worry of her patients, such as they were. Even though it was not every day, she missed him. The day she needed a joke, a smile, an embrace, a kiss, he was not there.

Farothwen had no idea why she felt like this. She was in a beautiful place full of people she loved, and nothing could hurt her. But she wished she could explore more. See the woods beyond the valley that Glorohtar had told her about. See the wilderness.

Go with the Rangers…

No. She promised Glorohtar she wouldn't leave Rivendell. He feared for her. He was afraid his father would come after them. But she knew that Elrond and his house would never let any harm come to them.

The wanderlust that plagued her as a child had come back. She needed to get away. Things were too peaceful here. She wanted something to do. She wanted to feel… needed. She didn't feel needed now. She had not the skill to heal the sick as well as Elenion and Elrond.

Farothwen knew she needed to do something. And do it now.

That night, Glorohtar returned as usual just at dusk. As usual, just as the bell for the evening meal was rung. He greeted Farothwen with a kiss. As usual. But tonight he saw the discontent etched on her face.

'Farothwen? What's wrong?'

She looked up at him with sad eyes, but Glorohtar saw something else that he had not seen for a very long time. There was a wildness in her eyes, a longing, a fire just waiting to break out. The last time he had seen that look was when she held her knife to his throat in the contest they had so long ago, so far away. He had not thought of Mirkwood for a long time. And he was so caught up in the work he was doing that he had almost forgotten his wife. He sighed. Glorohtar was secretly relieved that Farothwen discontinued her training. He did not want her in any danger at all. Her scarred hand constantly reminded him of how close he came to losing her. He thought she was happy to remain in Rivendell. He thought she had found her place in healing.

'Can I come with you on the next hunt?' She asked quietly.

'No, Farothwen, it's…' He was about to say 'It's too dangerous' but he knew that would not stay her. Farothwen was strong, stronger than even she knew, and Glorohtar knew that she would do whatever she willed. She had come this far, from Mirkwood to Rivendell, alone for most of the way. Glorohtar looked at her and saw the hope and pleading in her face. He would not deny her.

'Yes, you can come. Just promise me that you'll stay by my side and not stray from the path.'

Farothwen smiled. 'I'm not an impudent child. I can look after myself.'

'I know, I am sorry, I just don't want you getting hurt.' Glorohtar took her hand. 'I'm sorry that we've not been together much lately. I am neglecting you.'

'No, it is fine. At least we can spend time together tomorrow and the day after that. You tell me the forests beyond the valley are beautiful, and I would dearly like to see them for myself.'

'Then I shall show you, my love.' Glorohtar squeezed her hand. 'Come, let's eat. I have ridden long and am very hungry.'

After dinner, Farothwen and Glorohtar casually strolled down the halls to the library. Farothwen wanted to look at some scrolls and she needed Glorohtar to read the text for her. However, as they walked in the darkness, Farothwen heard someone calling her name. It was Elenion.

'Farothwen! We need you, Hirgon's taken a turn for the worse. Glorohtar, you can help too, we need all the hands we can get. Hurry!'

Glorohtar did not question Elenion, instead he took Farothwen's hand and they both ran, following Elenion. When they reached Hirgon's room, Glorohtar was shocked and sickened. Hirgon's wound had reopened and there was blood everywhere, all over his bed, even the floor. Glorohtar didn't see it in the starlight, but it was all over Elenion's tunic as well. He wanted to be sick, but held it together. Elrond looked up at them both, relieved they were there.

In the confusion, Farothwen didn't even realise that Morandir was there as well, until he started crying for Hirgon. Elenion looked up, at a loss with what to do about the hysterical ranger.

'Glorohtar,' Elrond said calmly, 'come here. I need you to place your hand here to stop the bleeding.' He placed Glorohtar's hand on top of a vein that had reopened. Glorohtar looked nauseous but did as he was told.

'I do not ask you, Farothwen,' Elrond said, 'I do not know what is in Hirgon's blood. Take Morandir outside.'

Morandir was in shock and crying. Farothwen gently put her arm around his waist and led him outside, away from the horror in the room. Farothwen had never seen so much blood before in her life, and she was scared that Hirgon was going to die.

'No,' Morandir kept whispering. 'I want to see him!'

'Morandir, it is best to let Lord Elrond work alone, you cannot help him this time. I promise that when Hirgon is better I will let you see him. For now, it's best to keep out of the way.'

Morandir nodded, defeated. Farothwen looked at him with pity. _The poor fellow doesn't know which way is up at the moment_. Morandir sat on a wooden bench, held his head in his hands and cried. Farothwen sat down beside him and placed her arms around him. Morandir buried his head in her chest and cried, finally letting all of his fear and sadness out.

'Shh,' Farothwen said soothingly, 'he will be all right, just wait and see.' As she held this man, a fearless warrior who was now like a frightened child, in her arms, Farothwen was concerned that she was lying to him. She nervously looked around and listened carefully. There was nothing. All she could hear were Morandir's sobs. She was worried for him. If Hirgon died, Morandir would be inconsolable.

Hours later, Glorohtar went outside to tell Farothwen and Morandir the news. Morandir was asleep, his head on Farothwen's shoulder, her arms still protectively around him, stroking his hair. She was barely awake herself. It was in the middle of the night. Farothwen looked at Glorohtar with alarm at how much blood was on his clothes and hands. Her eyes was expectant. Inexplicably, Glorohtar felt a flash of jealousy hit him when he looked at his wife holding Morandir. He cleared his mind and met eyes with her. He slowly shook his head. Farothwen closed her eyes in sadness and tightened her grip on the sleeping Morandir. She nodded to Glorohtar, and he went back inside and started to help clean up, which had to be done before Morandir woke up.

Morandir was twitching and muttering in his sleep. He was dreaming. Suddenly, he woke with a scream, which frightened both him and Farothwen. He took a second to figure out where he was, and then looked at Farothwen.

'Hirgon!' He got up and started to make his way to the healing room.

'No, Morandir!' Farothwen grabbed him and tried to hold on.

'I want to see him!' He shook off her grip and strode forward. Farothwen grabbed him around the waist.

'Not yet!'

Morandir shrugged her off and went inside. Farothwen followed him and looked apologetically at Elrond. Morandir looked at the room in horror. Sheets and bandages were strewn on the floor, all bloodstained. The sheet that covered Hirgon's body was also bloodstained.

'Hirgon!' Morandir cried. He ran and knelt by his side, taking his cold white hand, kissing it. Elrond laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

'I am sorry, Morandir,' he said softly. 'There was nothing we could do for him.' The three elves all silently left the room, leaving Morandir alone with his beloved friend. Farothwen lingered, unable to take her eyes off him. Glorohtar placed a hand on her shoulder and gently led her away. The memories of that night would stay with her forever.


	31. Leaving

A/N: Hi, all. I hope to keep regularly updating this now I've started writing it again. I owe it to all you guys to finish it. My apologies if the formatting between sections is screwed. Also, there is a very badly translated Sindarin song within, so beware :D

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The next morning, Glorohtar woke to find Farothwen still asleep. He was amazed at how long the Edain slept for, and Farothwen was no exception. She was still tired from the night before, after he had carried her to bed after she fell asleep while he was washing his hands. She had had an extraordinarily hard night, looking after Morandir. Glorohtar felt guilty for feeling jealous when Farothwen was holding him. He was in pain, she was comforting him, that was it. But Glorohtar couldn't help feeling like there was something more.

He looked down at her sleeping face, so full of peace. But as she slept, he could not help but notice that she looked slightly older. Fine lines were beginning to appear around her eyes and mouth. She was ageing, slowly but surely, while he was ageless. Glorohtar's heart ached as he imagined her as an old woman, frail, upon her deathbed. But that would not come for many years yet, he hoped. It would not do to dwell on the future while he still had her in the prime of her life, beautiful as ever. This lovely creature in his arms, whom he was proud to call his wife. He gently brushed her dark hair out of her eyes and was reminded of a dream he had about a dark haired, blue eyed maiden he saw dancing in the woods.

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Farothwen awoke to find Glorohtar gone. She washed and got dressed, and went outside to find him eating a late breakfast in the dining hall, both of them missing the bell. She was still very tired, but she could sleep no more.

He heard her coming, looked up and smiled. 'Hello. I see we're finally out of bed?'

Farothwen yawned. 'I had a long night.'

Glorohtar lovingly adjusted Farothwen's hair. 'I think we all did.'

'I wonder how Morandir is,' Farothwen replied. 'I've been thinking about him all night. Poor soul.'

Glorohtar nodded in sympathy, but his paranoia was troubling him again. 'He will be all right. Dúnedain are made of pretty stern stuff. You are.'

Farothwen smiled. 'I'm sorry that we haven't spent much time together today.'

'Are you still coming tomorrow?'

'Of course! The way things are going, it's the only way I can see you.'

Glorohtar grinned. 'That's true.'

They ate in silence until another Elf entered the hall. It was Beleglor.

'Ada!' Farothwen called. 'Come sit with us.'

Beleglor smiled when he saw his daughter. He sat down on the bench beside her.

'You're a very elusive soul these days, my child. I've hardly seen you. Busy saving lives, I hope.'

Farothwen cast her eyes downward. Almost none of the Elves knew of the events that occurred the night before. Beleglor looked to Glorohtar for an explanation but Glorohtar just shook his head, his face also upset. Beleglor knew not to press further.

'What are you two doing today? Anything planned?' Beleglor tried to change the subject.

'Nothing, Ada,' Glorohtar replied. 'We just wanted to spend some time together, alone. We've hardly had the chance to do so these days.'

Beleglor nodded. 'I understand. You've both been so busy, as have I. Lindir has been pushing me very hard to compose some new lays.'

Farothwen smiled. That was very typical for Lindir. He was very excited when Beleglor and Farothwen arrived, two new minstrels to work with. He tried working with Farothwen a little but she was not really the creative type.

'Have you anything yet, Ada?' She asked, remembering with fondness of when she used to sit in her father's lap as a child while he sang new songs of his own to her.

'No, not really.' Beleglor's eyes sparkled. 'But he liked some of the old ones.'

Farothwen took a while to understand what her father meant by that, but then she grew red.

'Ada! You didn't!'

Beleglor grinned and nodded, cleared his throat and slowly began to sing:

O lu erui le tinnin  
Le mennin, hen velui nin  
Hin lin celair be giliath  
Gannil 'uren, a linnel anno ad  
Iell nin, iell nin, melui nin  
Galol lagor an dess  
Avo awarthad, hen nin  
Adar lin gerin anvell cuil

Farothwen looked embarrassed but still was grinning. Glorohtar realised that Beleglor sang that song to her as a child. It was beautiful and full of love. Glorohtar never knew Beleglor could be that poetic.

He marvelled at Beleglor as he looked at Farothwen. Glorohtar knew why he wrote one line of the song: _my daughter, my beloved…_ Glorohtar knew that Beleglor sacrificed everything for Farothwen. His family was estranged from him, and he had only a few friends. The whole of Mirkwood turned his back on him. He spent every waking hour looking after Farothwen and teaching her his craft. Although she was good, Farothwen did not really want to sing; it was all she knew how to do. The only thing Beleglor had, the only thing he lived for, was her. It was only pure fate that drew Farothwen to the King's halls that night. Beleglor had sung for the King before, long before Farothwen was born. He nor his household even knew of Farothwen before she came with her father. It was only the fact that there was no other minstrel there that Beleglor was even allowed to stay in the halls.

Glorohtar realised that he was not the first to love Farothwen.

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The midday air was chilly, and the wind was getting stronger. Morandir retrieved his cloak gratefully from the laundries of Rivendell, who graciously offered to wash his travel-stained clothes. He did not expect to leave this soon, but he also did not expect Hirgon to die.

Elenion was at the healing rooms, helping two other Dúnedain prepare Hirgon's body for travel. Gilbarad and Berenor lovingly washed his hair and combed it to lay upon his shoulders. Elenion brought clothes of Elven make and laid them out. Lord Elrond had very carefully sewn up Hirgon's death-wound. It was not very long, but it was very deep. Berenor cleaned the last of the dirt and blood off his hands and face, and all three dressed him together. Elenion stood back and watched as the two Men replaced his armour, the gaping hole in his chainmail clearly seen. They folded his hands across his chest and placed his sword in his palm. He was ready to transport.

The camp had moved in their absence; it was less than a day's ride away from Rivendell to accommodate the safe return of the injured.

Elenion stood in the doorway as Morandir was attempted to tie the cart to his horse. Morandir was clearly distressed as he tried to fasten the complex ties. He cried out and threw the ropes to the ground. Elenion silently floated over and tied up one side with his nimble fingers. Morandir was crying; Elenion knew not whether they were tears of frustration or of sadness. Or both.

'Morandir, you should not return so soon,' Elenion said gently.

'Would you deny me the company of my own people?' Morandir replied angrily. 'I cannot stay here any longer. I need to be back with my own kind.' He tied the other side of the cart up unaided. He suddenly looked up, his brown eyes full of anger and hurt.

'It is all right for you, my lord Elenion. You Elves know not the horrors of war. You do not have to know hunger, disease, or death. You do not ride, leaving loved ones behind uncertain of whether you come back alive or dead.' Morandir bowed his head. 'You do not-' his voice faltered. 'You do not have to tell a woman with child that her husband is dead.'

Even though he knew that Morandir was not of his right mind, Elenion was still angered. 'Surely you, those of Elvish blood, know the history of us? Do you not know of the great wars? Do you not know that Elves can die upon a sword, just like you can? Do not speak to me of war. I have seen enough of it.' Elenion sighed. 'My mother and father were lucky to escape the sack of our city alive. So were my uncle, my aunt and my cousins. My foremother and father died at Mordor's hands.'

Morandir was well-versed in Elvish history, more than Elenion anticipated. 'I know of Eregion. I know of the Noldor.' He gave Elenion a disgusted look. 'I know of the Kinslayers.'

Elenion was extremely angry at being associated with the fell deeds of his distant kin. He turned on his heel and walked away. Morandir realised what he had said.

'Lord Elenion!'

Elenion kept walking. Morandir seemed to come to his senses, Elenion's look of pure hatred bringing him out of his anger and grief. Morandir evidently had a death wish. Berenor and Gilbarad carried the wrapped and bound body of Hirgon from the healing room towards the courtyard. Morandir watched them and wished that it was he they were carrying, and Hirgon was still alive, going home to his wife and coming child. But Morandir had someone that needed him waiting for him. And he had to go to her before it was too late.

Elrond and Celebrían came to see them off, and Morandir thanked them for housing the Dúnedain and healing them to the best of their abilities. He still silently resented them for not being able to save Hirgon, whom he loved dearer than brother. But Morandir did not know what his thoughts were at the moment. And he still had the difficult task of telling Gilrían of her husband's death. Morandir was a mess. But he knew as soon as he left Rivendell he would be able to heal. Lord Elrond's medicine could not heal all hurts.

Glorohtar looked out the window and saw the three-horse procession preparing to leave. Farothwen sat nearby, not looking.

'Will you not go to them?' he asked.

'No,' Farothwen replied. 'There is nothing more for me to do.'

There was something in her voice he had never heard before. Regret? Hurt? Sadness? He did not know. He loved her, but sometimes he knew only too well the differences between Elves and Men. Men did not love as Elf-kind do.


	32. Foresight

Farothwen had trouble sleeping, the events of the past few days deeply troubling her. Beleglor expected this, and she joined him on his nightly walk immersed in Elvish dream sleep. The way Elves slept sometimes perturbed humans, but Farothwen knew nothing else. Beleglor kept convincing her to try to go to sleep, but she could not. She was always a worrisome and sensitive soul, and tonight was no different. Eventually he sent her to bed with a cup of warm milk, where she found Glorohtar in his dreams, lying down with his hands folded across his chest, his eyes open.

'What disturbs you?' he asked gently, never seeing his wife as agitated as restless as this.

'I do not know. I don't know what it is.' She sat on the bed. 'Do Elves feel as Edain do? Do they feel troubled for what seems to be no reason?'

'Sometimes,' Glorohtar replied, 'but usually not to this extent. Are you worried about Morandir?'

Farothwen nodded. 'A little. But there is just something about him that I… I don't know. I feel as if he is… familiar somehow.'

'Maybe you remember him from when you were a babe. Maybe he had something to do with your abandonment.'

Farothwen shook her head. 'From the sound of the letter, my mother was alone. And Morandir is but four years older than me.'

Glorohtar put his arm around her and kissed her crown. 'Come, try to sleep. We have to rise with the sun if we are to hunt tomorrow.'

'Oh, dear. Do not forget to wake me if I oversleep.'

Glorohtar smiled. 'Of course I won't.'

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Farothwen woke the next day with a start. The sun was shining brightly, high in the clear blue sky. She was late! _Why did he not awaken me?_

As she got up to put a dress on, she found a note on the bedside table, written in Glorohtar's neat hand. She was now able to read Tengwar characters, albeit a little slowly.

Farothwen,

I'm sorry I did not wake you. I saw you sleeping, your face so peaceful, and I had not the heart to disturb you. You needed the sleep, my love. I promise I will bring you along next time.

All my love,

Glorohtar.

Although she was annoyed, she smiled at his words. He was right; she did need to have a decent amount of sleep. He was always right.

The clattering sound of hooves got her attention. She ran to her window and looked down and grinned. Two black-haired Elves and also a blonde one were dismounting from their horses. Farothwen quickly put a coat over her thin white nightdress and walked down to greet them. The black-haired Elves looked pleased to see her.

Elladan embraced her first. 'How have you been?' he asked. She looked up at him, him being much taller than her. 'Fine,' she replied. There were two very dark circles under her eyes but she looked happy. She had changed a lot in the three weeks he had been away, and he was glad.

Celebrían embraced Elrohir, and asked him how his trip was, while Glorfindel was unpacking the horses. He saw Farothwen out of the corner of his eye and smiled at her.

'Hello, Farothwen,' he said. 'Have we missed anything?'

Farothwen shook her head. 'Not really,' she said. She had no idea of how to put what she had seen in the past few days into words.

'You look tired,' Glorfindel said. 'Go to sleep.'

'Do I really look that awful?'

Glorfindel laughed. 'Yes.'

Farothwen smiled. 'I thought that you were not meant to ask the Elves for counsel, for they will not say yes or no.'

'This Elf does. Go on, go to bed.'

'But it's not even midday.'

'Edain need more sleep than Elves.' Glorfindel turned Farothwen to the direction of the Houses and pushed her gently. 'Go.'

'All right, I am. Good night.'

'Surely you mean good morning?' Glorfindel replied in his clear voice, ringing melodiously like bells.

Farothwen gave him another grin and proceeded back to her room, whereupon she fell back to sleep soon after.

-----------------------------

Arwen was in her father's library, looking up information on some ancient scrolls and pieces of parchment that lay about the place. She cursed those who had used it last and not put them back in their rightful place, probably her brothers or Glorfindel, whose untidiness was legendary among Elves. Both her father and Erestor were far too tidy, and no others were allowed access to her father's personal collection, whereas the main library was open to all.

As she scanned the shelves, she found a book of poems she used to read as a child that she had not seen for years. Arwen sat in a big, soft velvet chair and read, a fire burning cheerily in the fireplace. The weather was getting cooler, not that most Elves felt it, but Arwen did, due to her human blood. She wrapped her dark red mantle around her, which helped, and read, childhood memories flooding back of how her Nana and Ada read to her, Elladan and Elrohir doing so as well. They would refuse to read the romantic poems, instead preferring to read ones of blood and war, scaring Arwen half to death in the process. One of their favourites was the Fall of Gil-galad, which she was reading now. It was beautiful and sad, and she could not believe hearing of him terrified her once. But Mordor always scared her, even more so now. Arwen feared going back and forth between Lothlórien, although almost everyone assured her it was safe. What evil was beyond Imladris' borders, none could tell.

The fire was lulling her to sleep, and she did, in the dream sleep of Elves with the book on her lap, hands folded, eyes open. Anor started to make her slow descent into afternoon and the fire was dwindling. It was peaceful, birdsong in the trees once more.

The urgent sound of a door flying open broke Arwen's dreams. Elenion was standing there.

'Lady Arwen, you must come, quickly!'

Arwen placed the book on the table beside her and followed Elenion to the healing rooms. She thought maybe something had gone wrong with another Dúnadan. Most of them were still recovering, taking advantage of the rest that Lord Elrond had offered them before they were to go back to their encampment. Instead she saw a bunch of Elves standing around nursing cuts, lacerations, bruises, grazes, covered in a mix of red and dark blood. Orc blood.

Arwen was aghast. 'What happened?'

'We were ambushed by Orcs, my lady,' one blonde elf answered.

'Is anyone badly hurt?'

'The Mirkwoodlander is, Lady,' he replied.

_Mirkwoodlander? _She realised_. Glorohtar._

Arwen opened the door to see Glorohtar lying on his side, blood mingled with his golden hair. Glorfindel held him so he would not roll on his back, while Elrond prepared to sew up a wound. Elrond saw the concern on his daughter's face.

'He is fine, Arwen. His horse threw him and he hit his head. He is unconscious but he will wake soon.'

'Where's Farothwen?' Arwen asked.

'She's sleeping,' Glorfindel said. Arwen nodded.

'I will tell her.'

Arwen went to Farothwen and Glorohtar's room, where Farothwen was sleeping. She had pulled the covers over her head, only a peek of dark hair visible. Arwen gently shook the lump.

'Farothwen?'

Farothwen screamed and threw the covers off, frightening Arwen in the process.

'Oh, my lady! I'm sorry, you startled me.' She sat up and wiped the sleep out of her eyes.

'It is quite all right.' Arwen gestured to the bed. 'May I sit?'

'Of course.' Farothwen could tell something was amiss. 'Lady Arwen, what is wrong?'

Arwen sighed. 'Glorohtar has been in an accident.' Farothwen was frozen in fear. 'He is fine,' Arwen continued, 'but he is unconscious and he has a large cut on the back of his head.'

'What happened?'

'The hunters were ambushed by orcs. Glorohtar's horse was spooked and threw him.'

'Is anyone else hurt?'

Arwen shook her head. 'Can I see him?' Farothwen asked.

'Of course. I believe my father will have finished now. Come.'

Farothwen put her coat on over her nightgown and followed Arwen down. Elrond had finished stitching his wound and he was asleep. Glorfindel held the door open for her as she went in, all waiting outside. Glorohtar was still peacefully asleep, blood still in his hair. Farothwen was concerned, but she knew that Elrond would have stopped any bleeding.

She tentatively approached him. 'Glorohtar? Glor?' No response. She took one of his hands, and leant down and kissed his forehead.

'Of all the people who had to fall off his horse, it had to be you, the Elf. I guess you're not so graceful after all.' She stroked his hand. 'Don't ever scare me like me that again.'

Still no response. His eyes were closed, and that scared her. She had never seen any Elf sleep with closed eyes. She let go of his hand to search for a chair to sit on. As soon as she did, she heard an unearthly whisper.

'Fara…'

She turned around. Glorohtar's eyes were slowly opening. She zoomed back to his side and took his hand. He squeezed it slightly.

'Glorohtar,' she whispered. 'How do you feel?'

'My head hurts,' he croaked. 'And my ribs. I may have cracked one.'

'Don't try to get up. Do you need anything?'

'Water.'

Farothwen took a small skin in the room and filled it in a nearby pool and come back. She gently tilted her husband's head up so he would not choke. She found a chair and sat beside him.

'I had a lovely dream, while I was unconscious,' Glorohtar said.

'What was it about?'

'There was a beautiful maiden dancing in the woods, running and skipping through the trees in sunbeams. She wore a pale blue dress, had long dark hair and deep blue eyes, the colour of a clear sky. She looked like an Elf but yet was not so. She wanted me to chase her, follow her back to the light.'

Farothwen smiled. 'Did you follow her?'

'Yes.'

Farothwen kissed his hand. 'I'm glad she led you back to me.'

'So am I.'

But there was one detail Glorohtar omitted in his woozy state, because he was struggling to understand it himself. The maiden had called him Ada.

------------------------

Elladan and Elrohir approached Arwen as she was waiting outside. They had heard what happened and wanted to make sure Glorohtar was all right.

'He's fine,' Arwen said. 'He was lucky that an Orc did not get to him first.' She sighed, looking as if she was troubled by something.

'Arwen?' Elrohir said gently. She looked up at him worriedly.

'It just worries me. That something may befall you both on the road. The danger outside is growing. Evil is growing stronger. The Fences of Lórien are constantly being attacked and even now _daernaneth_ is fighting to keep it hidden. He is coming back.'

Elladan tried to encourage his sister. 'Arwen, we are safe. Someone is almost always with us and we have both ridden and fought long. You need not worry for us.'

'But I do, Elladan. And so does Nana. We do not know what lies outside the borders. Our strength is fading. Our time is over. Some could have died today if they were not skillful. It could easily have been you. Sometimes our foresight cannot predict such things. I could not lose you now.'

Elrohir embraced his sister as tears slowly fell from her eyes. 'Arwen, my sweet sister. Do you not remember the summer we spent in the forests when you were small, and you strayed from us?'

Elladan smiled and stroked his sister's hair. 'We found you sitting on a rock, scared out of your poor little wits. We searched all night for you. Do you remember what we told you?'

'You promised you'd never leave me ever again. I remember,' said Arwen.

Elrohir nodded. 'And we would keep that promise, even if any of us chose a mortal life.'

'Do not speak of such things,' Arwen said. 'That will not come for a while yet, although I would not choose such a life. I could not forsake you, Nana and Ada, or _daernaneth_ and _daeradar._'

'Do not choose now,' Elladan said. 'We do not know what will happen between now and then.'

Arwen smiled as she thought of another memory from that summer. 'Did you keep the other promise?'

Elrohir laughed and then whispered in her ear. 'We still haven't told Nana and Ada.'

'They would still be angry, even if we told them now,' she replied.

'Arwen, you need not have fear. We are protected,' Elladan said.

'As long as we are within the borders. What of the wilderness beyond? There is no protection out there. I have a feeling that something terrible will happen to one of you.'

'Arwen,' Elrohir insisted, 'we will be fine. You are worrying needlessly. We will not be separated, I promise. We will be by your side for as long as you still walk this earth.'

Arwen smiled at her brothers, both so fair and alike in face. 'I know. You are right, I am worrying needlessly.'

Elrohir squeezed her hand. 'You know where we are if you need us. We're going to practice. See you at dinner.'

'I'll see you.'

As both of them walked off, Arwen looked out over the valley Imladris was nestled in, away to the mountains and woods on the distant horizon. She blinked, and suddenly the valley floor was a golden sea before her, the sun slowly setting in an orange sky. The mountain walls became sea cliffs, the songbirds white gulls. Instead of standing on a stone floor, she was standing on a wooden pier. She was in Mithlond, a place she had visited a few times before. But no one was there, except her.

A white ship sat in port. She recognised it as Círdan's work, but she saw only two dark haired Elves on board. She could not see their faces. The wind suddenly blew, catching Arwen's black dress. Her sleeve bore a curious insignia – a silver tree with seven stars overhead. She looked up to see the ship pulling out of port. She could now see the Elves clearly. They were her brothers.

She ran to the end of the pier, crying 'No!' but it was too late. They were sailing away, without her. Forever separated beyond the circles of the world. The sun sank below the horizon just as they did, and her whole world became dark. She was utterly alone.

--------------------------

Arwen was quiet during dinner. She was unable to get the image of her brothers' faces, both heartbroken, as they were sailing away out of her head. Celebrían knew she was troubled but she would ask her later.

Elrond was troubled as well. Orcs were coming nearer and nearer to Imladris. Their numbers were few, so far, but they may become greater. It was getting dangerous to go outside of Elrond's sight, beyond his area of protection. The remaining Dúnedain had only left that morning, and if Elrond did not know how capable they were, he would fear for them. For now, the hunters would be forced to remain within the borders. There were plenty of rabbits and birds, but few of the bigger animals like deer and wild boar. They would have to make do until the Orcs moved on. Winter was coming soon; the Orcs would soon have to go back into their caves in the mountains and would trouble the Elves no more. At least, he hoped that was how it would work.

Glorfindel, however, was in good spirits. It was nearly time for the Autumn Festival, where they would feast and celebrate the middle of the season. He was in charge of organising, as usual. He organised the Autumn festival, Elladan and Elrohir did the same for Winter, Arwen for Spring, and Elrond and Celebrían for Summer, the biggest one by far. The reason for the festivals was long forgotten, but everyone enjoyed it nonetheless. Glorfindel loved Autumn festival, for it was the time that, according to legend, the boundary between the physical and spirit worlds was at its weakest. Some say that the spirits of long-dead Elves who are waiting to be reborn walk the earth unhappily for a short time, grieving the loss of their precious Middle-earth. Some even go so far to say that the spirits of Men also walk, and many battles are fought on the night of the Equinox. An elf-child many years ago claimed to have even seen Beren and Lúthien in the forests.

Glorfindel delighted telling elf-children gruesome stories of how Elves met terrible deaths and how their spirits are trapped upon the earth, seeking retribution. Elrond loved to hear him tell these stories, although he never said it to Celebrían: Glorfindel had frightened her children half to death on many occasions pretending to be a vengeful spirit. As there were no elf-children anymore and everyone knew that the stories were not true, Glorfindel instead liked to play practical jokes that sometimes backfired horribly. But Glorfindel was looking forward to this year immensely, as there were new people to scare. This was an Imladris-only tradition, so Glorohtar and Farothwen knew nothing of the nature of the Autumn festival. Glorfindel had recruited Elladan and Elrohir to help him this year to make this the best Autumn feast ever. Celebrían could practically see cogs turning in his head as he thought of genius ways to scare people.

'Please, don't frighten everyone, Glorfindel,' she said.

'But, my lady, how many years has it been since we have had new people here? We must teach them the legend of the Autumn Equinox!'

'Gently, please? I don't want to give them nightmares.'

'Yes, my lady.' Glorfindel smiled, but even so he did not heed Celebrían's words. He was determined to frighten as many people as possible. The Equinox was in a week, so he had plenty of time to prepare. Elenion was in on the act as well, so Glorfindel had quite an arsenal behind him.

-----------------------------------

Arwen had gone back to the library to finish the book she was reading before Elenion had come. The vision she saw haunted her. What little foresight she had was deadly accurate. She still did not tell her father of her vision of Elrohir struggling through the snow carrying what seemed to be a dead maiden in his arms she had some while ago. That maiden, of course, was Farothwen. She only hoped that she was wrong about what she saw.

But what if she was right? What would cause everyone to leave without her? Where were Nana and Ada? Had they left me before Elladan and Elrohir? What did I do? Why would I choose a mortal life? So many questions without answers. Arwen could not concentrate on her book. She sighed and placed it back on the table as tears started to fall from her eyes. She could not help but cry, the thought of her separated from her family forever terrifying her. There was a knock on the door.

'Arwen?' It was Celebrían. Arwen quickly wiped her tears away and tried to appear normal.

'Yes, Nana?'

Celebrían opened the door to see Arwen sitting in the large red chair, reading a book. She could see, no matter how well she tried to hide it, that her daughter had been crying. Celebrían pulled up a chair next to Arwen.

'You were quiet at dinner. What is wrong?'

'Nothing,' Arwen replied. Celebrían knew better.

'Arwen, what is troubling you?'

Arwen sighed. 'A vision.'

'What did you see?'

'Elladan and Elrohir… they left me. They sailed without me.'

Celebrían stroked her daughter's face. 'Your brothers love you, they would never leave you.'

'But Nana… has your foresight ever lead you astray?'

Celebrían nodded. 'Yes, many times. So it has for your grandmother as well, wise as she is. Even the wisest cannot see what will come to pass, not even your father. Do not worry. Sometimes our foresight shows us what _can_ come to pass, but not _will_. You have a choice to make, my daughter, a choice that cannot be made lightly, although not for many lives of Men yet. What you saw is but one path that you may take. None can be certain. Do not let it trouble you. Mayhap your fate lies elsewhere.'

Arwen nodded thoughtfully. 'You are right, Nana, as always. None can say where our lives will lead us. Sometimes foresight is both a gift and a curse.'

'Too true. But the Evenstar will shine brightly for many years yet.' Celebrían rose and kissed her daughter's brow. 'Good night, my dearest. Do not stay up too late, you need your rest.'

Arwen smiled. 'Good night, Nana.'

Celebrían quietly left the room and sighed. She hoped that Arwen was wrong, at least for her own sake.

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A/N: Hi guys! If you're still reading, thanks :P We're sort of drawing towards the end. There is a lot more I wanted to say but I do want to finish this and those of who you have been keeping track of the dates will notice that Celebrían's departure is looming. But the next chapter will be nice and light hearted, and hopefully funny. I hope you like both this one and the ones to come!


	33. Excitement

In the days that followed, Celebrían noticed that Arwen seemed cheerful. She was glad that her daughter was no longer troubled by her vision. However, she was seeing less and less of her sons, and of Glorfindel. She hoped against hope that they would behave themselves this year, but it was highly unlikely.

Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel and Elenion had squirrelled themselves away in a disused room which used to be a classroom for the children of Rivendell under the careful tutelage of both Erestor and Glorfindel among many other teachers. Glorfindel was in high spirits, his bright blue eyes shining with mischief as he rolled a map of Imladris out across one of the desks. In a low voice he told the others what he was planning for the Autumn festival night, the smiles on their faces growing wider by the minute.

Elrond just happened to be walking past when he heard the low conspirital mutterings. He pressed his ear to the door but even so could not make out what they were planning. He smiled, shook his head and walked away. He was always up for a good scare, but he hoped that the elf-men would take it easy this year. He had enough to worry about without having people scared half to death.

Erestor was being extra careful this year, the uptight advisor being the target of many pranks. After a few thousand years, though, he was fairly familiar with everyone's tricks. He was already checking behind doors and checking his bed for any large insects the twins may have put into it. Erestor was deathly afraid of spiders and had been foolish enough to tell Glorfindel. As he went into his personal washroom, he thought he saw a huge spider in the basin. He gasped, but then he realised that it was just a piece of fabric from a black tunic he has mended that looked like a spider. He brushed it away and had his daily wash before dinner. However, as he opened his cupboard to get some soap, a large brown, hairy spider sat upon one of his towels. Startled by the sudden movement and light, it jumped out and skittered across the floor. Erestor screamed and jumped up onto a nearby chair, shaking with fright. The spider stood still on the floor near his bed, his shrieking loud enough to send Elrond running to Erestor's room. Elrond threw open the door.

'Erestor, what is amiss?'

Erestor, whimpering with fear, shakily pointed to the spider sitting rather casually on his lovely blue rug. Elrond tried his complete best not to smile, and he succeeded. He walked over and the spider cowered, afraid of the very tall and noisy creature before it.

'See, Erestor? He's harmless.' Elrond very lightly tapped it. 'Go on, be away with you. Back to the forests, where you belong.'

It scurried across the floor, stopping outside Erestor's room as if it was waiting for Elrond to pick it up and take it back to the forests. Erestor stepped off the chair, his throat dry but his fear over.

'My thanks, Lord Elrond,' he said, blushing a little with embarrassment. Elrond smiled a knowing smile.

'You are quite welcome, Erestor. Even we, the wisest and fairest of all beings, have fears just like every other creature.' Elrond leaned in conspiritally. 'I myself have a fear of cats.'

Erestor arched his eyebrows. 'Really?'

'Oh yes. Spawn of Mordor, every last one of them. One attacked me when I was young and I've been afraid of them since. But for Eru's love, please don't tell my sons. I'll never hear the end of it.'

'Of course, my lord. Your fears are safe with me.'

Elrond left the room and picked the patient spider up, and gently placed it in a nearby tree. As he did, he laughed at the sight of Erestor standing on a chair, shrieking. That such a wise and noble elf is reduced to a quivering mess in the presence of a tiny and harmless creature. Elrond had half a mind to yell at his sons, who were invariably behind it, but it gave him such a good chuckle he let it slide.

Unseen in the shadows, an elf-maiden giggled, and silently swept away to get ready for dinner. She normally would never have done anything like this, but the mischievous atmosphere was hard to resist. She hoped that no one would ever find out it was her, though. Her father would kill her.

* * *

The morning of the Autumn festival arrived, and the whole of Rivendell was looking forward to nightfall, after the obligatory large feast, of course. The feast wouldn't be much in terms of meat because of the limitations of the hunters, but it was a nice feast nonetheless. The main courtyard was decorated with ribbons and buntings of orange, red and yellow, with a little bit of black and purple as well. Beleglor did not know what was going on and had to ask Lindir at breakfast. 

'Why, it's the Equinox, of course!' he laughed. 'Tonight is the night that the spirits of dead Elves and Men walk the earth, or so they say. Children's stories, of course, but it's always fun to hear them again.'

'I've never heard such stories,' Beleglor replied.

'You have to come tonight, Glorfindel tells them beautifully. After the feast, of course. Tonight is one of the nights I do not sing. But I'm warning you, tonight is not for the faint of heart.'

'In what way?'

'Glorfindel and Elrond's sons go out of their way to terrify each and every person in Imladris, and they will stop at nothing.'

Beleglor laughed. He had always known Glorfindel, Elladan and Elrohir to be gentle souls; he could not imagine them terrorising anyone. 'I suppose I had better warn my children.'

'No, don't!' Lindir's eyes shone with excitement. 'They must not know anything of this, the fun is in being caught unawares.'

Beleglor smiled. 'All right. Anything else I need to know?'

'Wear red,' Lindir replied. 'The colour of blood. It's tradition.'

Beleglor ate his last bite of bread and stood up, grinning. Much as he loved living in Rivendell, its people were very strange. Tonight sounded like a night of fun, and Farothwen and Glorohtar needn't know anything. But first, he needed to get changed.

* * *

A/N: Hey all! My apologies once again for the delay. This story is, after nearly three years, starting to wind down. I'm sure it's been an albatross around both our necks! Thank you for continuing to read it. The chapters are going to be a little more frequent and certainly longer, and the next chapter is a beauty. I'm sure you want to reach the end of the tale as much as I do so relax and enjoy the party! Ooh, I wonder what the twins are up to... 


	34. Celebrations

A/N: This is a huge chapter! It's full of laughs and some thrills. As you can probably tell, this is meant to be an Elvish Hallowe'en, some nice light fun. As I said earlier, these are among the last chapters, so I hope you enjoy them.

* * *

Farothwen walked around after breakfast with Glorohtar, feeling very out of place. Apparently today was some sort of celebration, the courtyard decorated and the red-clad Elves in high spirits. Glorohtar was fine: the stitches were removed from his head and he just had a large bruise on his ribcage, not a cracked rib like he thought. He saw Elenion walking past and asked him what was going on.

'It's the Autumn feast,' he replied. Glorohtar had completely forgotten the Equinox was coming.

'Go and change!' Elenion fussed. 'Tonight's going to be very special and you must be dressed for it.'

'What's happening tonight?' Farothwen asked. Elenion smirked.

'You'll see. Just enjoy it.'

Both of them perplexed, Farothwen and Glorohtar did as he said, and dressed in red. Excitement was in the air, as well as something else. Glorohtar couldn't put his finger on it. Bloodlust?

All of their questions were answered before the sun set, at the feast. The usual fare was served – a mixture of meats and fruits, the last harvest before winter. Red wine was in everyone's goblet, and Farothwen noticed that everyone's lips were stained red, like it was blood. Everyone was also drinking feverishly. Tonight was going to be a very strange night.

As the feast came to an end, Lord Elrond stood to say his usual piece. 'As you all know, tonight is the night where the boundaries of the circles of the world is at its weakest. As the sun sets, the restless souls of our forebears and also of Men walk the earth for a brief period, lamenting for their lost lives and their beloved land. If you see them, please do not disturb them, for they are full of hurt and anger and may try to harm you. Enjoy yourselves, and hail the dead!'

'Hail!' All drank to the souls of fallen Elves and Men. Farothwen was alarmed.

'The dead walk the earth tonight?' She looked to Glorohtar for an explanation, but he was equally disturbed.

'I do not know. The ways of this land are still strange to me. I would think it was a story, but everyone here seems to believe it.'

Beleglor overheard. 'Of course they walk, my dearest. For here in Imladris have many battles been fought, while Mirkwood has not seen much of war.' Much as he hated lying to his children, Beleglor was enjoying seeing the fear on their faces. 'Do not fear them, you are safe from them. Their stories are mostly full of sadness, not of hate. They will not hurt you.' He stood. 'Come, join the celebrations. I hear Elladan and Elrohir are putting on a play, and it's very funny.'

Farothwen followed her father. Much as she loved him, she knew he was a terrible liar. They were just stories. Nothing to fear. She gave a reassuring smile to her husband, who also knew that it was not true. Besides, the idea of Elladan and Elrohir acting in a play was hilarious.

A group of Elves were seated under the large pine tree in the courtyard, hung with red ribbon, its shedding needles gently drifting down onto the grass. A little stage area was marked out, a blue sheet hung as a backdrop. Glorfindel was acting as narrator, and he graciously waited until everyone was seated, including Farothwen, Glorohtar and Beleglor. Farothwen sat, leaning back comfortably into Glorohtar, his arms around her in the cool air. Glorfindel cleared his throat and began.

'Welcome, fair people, to the tale of the great warriors Tugdir and Thaurdir, as portrayed by our own Masters Elrohir and Elladan!'

They appeared and bowed to cheers from the audience. Elladan turned to Glorfindel and said, 'Glorfy, it's Elladan and Elrohir, I was born first.' He grinned as everyone laughed.

'By only two minutes,' Elrohir protested as he put the props on the ground: two wooden swords, a long flower, and two large bottles filled with what looked like a thick red liquid. It was obvious that this was part of the play, as Elrohir turned to the audience and loudly whispered, 'He has smelly feet.'

'I don't!' Elladan cried. 'It's the smell of the old cheese from the kitchens, I swear!' Everyone laughed at Elladan's perfect mock indignation, Glorfindel clearing his throat loudly again.

'Thaurdir was walking through the forests of the wilderness, marvelling on what a lovely day it was,' he began.

'Ah, it's a lovely day, I marvel,' Elrohir said.

'When he saw his old friend, Tugdir,' Glorfindel continued.

Elladan sauntered onto 'stage'. 'Hello, Tugdir, my old friend,' Elrohir said, bowing.

'Hello, Thaurdir, my two-minutes-younger friend,' Elladan replied. 'How be you?'

'I be well. How be you?'

'I be well.' Elladan started frantically waving his hands in front of his face. 'Argh, a bee!'

Glorfindel again pretended to read from his scroll. 'While they found a better playwright, Thaurdir and Tugdir started talking about things.'

Elrohir and Elladan in low voices said the word 'things' over and over again.

'A new playwright was found and he decided to put in a beautiful woman, Bainwen, who came over to say hello to her old friends, Tugdir and Thaurdir.'

Arwen walked across the stage. 'Hello, my old friends, Tugdir and Thaurdir.' She promptly walked off again. Elladan and Elrohir watched her go.

'Both Thaurdir and Tugdir realised that in their hearts they were overcome by love for Bainwen,' Glorfindel said.

'Ah, in my heart I am overcome by love for Bainwen,' Elladan and Elrohir said in perfect sync. They angrily looked at each other. 'No, I am!' they said together. They appeared angrier. 'No, I am!' they screamed in sync.

'All right, you both are!' Glorfindel called, and they looked placated. 'Bainwen suddenly realised that she had to finish her conversation with the two great warriors, so she came back.'

'I've come back!' said Arwen. 'Sorry, I forgot to finish my conversation with you. How be you?'

Elrohir rolled his eyes. 'Please, don't ask me that.'

The narrator cut in again. 'Tugdir had found a pretty flower to give Bainwen.'

Elladan handed Arwen the flower. 'A pretty flower for a pretty maiden,' he said, grinning like a fool. Arwen acted touched and smelt the flower. Elrohir appeared angry.

'Ow!' Arwen shrieked, rubbing her nose. 'A bee!'

Glorfindel's voice seemed agitated. 'While the new playwright was dragged out the back and had the stuffing kicked out of him for writing such rubbish, the narrator got so fed up with the play he had a tantrum. Argh!' He threw the empty scroll to the grown and stormed off, the three actors running to calm him. The crowd were laughing hysterically. A whisper was heard, 'That's my favourite part. Glorfindel does tantrums so well. He should do, he has enough of them!' That sent the crowd into a new wave of laughter as the actors and narrator came back on stage, the narrator muttering something about playwrights having obsessions with bees.

'What are you lot laughing at?' Glorfindel improvised. 'Are you laughing at a poor actor reduced to doing such drivel as this to put scrolls on the shelves? To put gold in my circlets? I could be with the greatest of actors, you know!' He pretended to cry.

The crowd shouted 'Get on with it!' Glorfindel picked up the scroll and he seemed to wipe his eyes and blow his nose on it. 'Oh dear,' he said, 'that'll take a while to get out.'

'Get on with it!' the crowd shouted, prompted by Arwen. Glorfindel cleared his throat once again and resumed.

'Now the narrator has become the playwright, he decided to write Bainwen out, because he believed that a woman has no place in a manly, violent play, and he was sick of pandering to women's demands for a woman in the play. He doesn't know what happened to Bainwen, she went off and died somewhere, he doesn't care.'

Arwen marched up to Glorfindel and pretended to slap him hard, storming off. 'Wench!' he called back at her. He straightened himself up and continued.

'Thaurdir remembered that it was the Equinox.'

'Ah, I remember, it's the Equinox!' Elrohir cried.

'And he also remembered that the souls of the dead walk the earth unhappily, seeking rest and retribution.'

'Ah, I remember, the souls of the dead walk the earth unhappily, seeking rest and retribution!'

Elladan tapped him on the head with the hilt of his wooden sword, Elrohir falling to the ground. 'Sorry, he was getting annoying,' he said apologetically.

'Tugdir was thinking of a really funny and original way to scare the wits out of Thaurdir when night fell and he regained consciousness,' Glorfindel continued.

'I know!' Elladan exclaimed. 'I'll stick a white sheet on my head with holes cut out for eyes and pretend to be a restless spirit!'

He ran offstage while Elrohir sleepily stood up.

'Thaurdir was also thinking of a good way to scare his friend Tugdir.'

'I know!' Elrohir exclaimed. 'I'll stick a white sheet on my head with holes cut out for eyes and pretend to be a restless spirit!'

He also ducked offstage. Glorfindel continued to speak.

'Night fell, and the cries of spirits were heard in the stillness.'

'Squawk!' went Elladan.

'No, I said spirits, not parrots!'

'Oh, sorry. Wooooo!'

'That's better. Anyway, Tugdir went around with his sword drawn because it is said that for just this one Equinox night spirits can touch their beloved Middle-earth. He hoped he wouldn't encounter any real spirits.'

'I hope I won't encounter any real spirits,' Elladan said, with said white sheet with eyeholes on his head. 'No, spirits aren't real, it's all children's stories my parents told me to scare me. They loved scaring me. I think it's because they were Nazgûl, but let's not go into that. Although it would explain why they went abroad a lot.' A well timed bump made Elladan jump. He burst into tears. 'Nana!' he cried and ran offstage.

Elrohir was also in his white sheet, inching around slowly, his wooden sword drawn.

'Thaurdir was also wary of spirits, because he had seen one in his childhood,' Glorfindel said in a slightly scornful voice.

'No, it's true!' Elrohir protested. 'I did see a spirit! It was a flea that lived on Huan, Hound of Valinor, when he died!' Naturally, this raised a big laugh from the crowd. 'You all just ask Lord Elrond! It bit me too!'

Elrond was standing at the back watching, laughing, holding his hands up in protest when the crown spun around. 'It bit me!' Elrohir continued. He sauntered up to the nearest elf-maiden in the crowd with a big lecherous smile. 'Want to see the scar? It's on my-'

'Thaurdir was still on the lookout for spirits,' Glorfindel interrupted.

Elrohir whirled around. 'My foot! I was going to say it was on my foot!' There was another bump and Elrohir shrieked. He wandered around carefully with his sword drawn. He peeked around the left edge of the sheet just as Elladan entered on the right side. They both inched backwards until they bumped into each other. They turned around and screamed in sync, 'Argh! A spirit!'

They raised their swords and started to fence, both of them displaying skills honed over thousands of years. It was a delight to see. Once, when Elladan's sword hit Elrohir's particularly hard, the last four inches of Elrohir's sword flew off into the crowd, which was definitely not expected. Elladan laughed with everyone in the crowd and Glorfindel quipped, 'There you have it, ladies and gentlemen: conclusive proof that Thaurdir has the shorter sword.' Elrohir started laughing, totally forgetting about the play. He turned around and pointed his broken sword at Glorfindel.

'Watch it, you, or you'll have no sword by morning.'

Everyone, actors and narrator included, was dissolved in laughter and struggling to continue.

'The spirits were still fighting,' Glorfindel choked out.

'Oh, right,' Elladan said. He and Elrohir dipped their swords into the open bottles of the red mixture, meant to be blood, and started painting each other where their swords struck the sheets. Streaks of fake blood were everywhere, even on their faces and hands. Elladan even managed to write his name on Elrohir's sheet.

'It was a fight to the death,' Glorfindel said.

Elrohir managed to thrust his sword in between Elladan's arm and chest, Elladan acting like he had been stabbed in the heart.

'Oh, hang on,' Elrohir said. He pulled his sword out, coated it in fake blood, and placed it under Elladan's arm again. Elladan smiled.

'Can I die now?'

'By all means, brother.'

Elladan stumbled, in the process pulling his sheet off. Elrohir gasped and pulled his own sheet off.

'Tugdir!' he cried.

Elladan dramatically sank to his knees and Elrohir caught him, holding him in his arms. He stuck a glob of red onto the place where the wound was supposed to be, over Elladan's heart. Elrohir pretended to weep over the body.

'Oh, Tugdir, Tugdir! I have murdered thee! That which I love most, my friend, the one two whole minutes older than me!'

Elladan cracked an eye open. 'I'm not dead.'

'Thy blood is on my hands!' Elrohir showed his sticky red hands to the crowd. 'I am so moved by my guilt I have reverted to old speech!'

'I'm not dead!'

'My life is not worth living, having killed one so dear! Goodbye cruel world!'

Elrohir coated Elladan's sword with fake blood. 'Now I throw myself upon thy sword, where I am supposed to be! I farewell thee with a kiss.'

'Oh, don't kiss me, I don't know where that mouth's been!'

Elrohir tried to control a giggle. 'Goodbye!' He dramatically pretended to fall upon Elladan's sword, draping himself over his body.

'I'm not dead, you silly fool!'

'Tugdir did indeed die with his noble friend,' Glorfindel said.

'Oh, did I?' Elladan asked.

'Yes.'

'Oh, all right, then.' Elladan then closed his eyes and let his head droop.

'So that is the end of the tale of the great warriors, Thaurdir and Tugdir, who were eventually undone by their own stupidity. The moral of this story, boys and girls, is that if you see someone wandering around in a white sheet in this Equinox night, actually make sure they are spirits before stabbing them. The end!'

All four actors stood and took a bow, to the thunderous applause of the crowd, who were now on their feet. Celebrían smiled and called for silence.

'How nice you all are! Now, while you were all watching the play, the cooks were nice enough to both make you all some sweets and to hide them all over the House. Search everywhere, for they are hidden everywhere, even in the trees. There are plenty for all. Good luck!'

Everyone cheered and immediately ran off to search. Elladan and Elrohir were mainly concerned with throwing the hardening fake blood mixture at each other, their hands and faces and tunics coated with the sticky red mixture. Farothwen, Glorohtar and Beleglor stayed behind with Elrond as the others rushed off to search for sweets. Beleglor was still giggling as he approached the twins.

'Who wrote that? It was awful!'

Elrohir laughed. 'Oh come on, Beleglor, it wasn't that bad! We wrote it long ago, with Glorfindel. It was meant to be scary but it turned out funny. One year we decided to perform it and we've done it every year since. You would have thought everyone would be sick of it by now.'

'I'm certainly not,' Elrond said. 'Glorfindel's tantrum is the best bit of acting I've ever seen.'

Elladan leaned over to Farothwen. 'We wrote that part. The only reason it's funny is because it's true.' She laughed.

'Are you all going to search for sweets?' Celebrían asked. 'You should, there's plenty there. Elladan and Elrohir, you should wash. That stuff wouldn't taste very nice, I'll wager.'

'Probably not.' They washed it off their hands at a nearby small fountain. They decided to leave it on their faces to add to the effect. Elrond and Celebrían gave them each small red sacks to gather the sweets in.

'Check the trees,' Celebrían said, 'everyone's gone back into the House. But don't stray too far into the forests! Who knows what spirits walk in the wilds.' She smiled.

Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, Farothwen and Glorohtar ran off into the trees, searching every nook and cranny for that elusive piece of chocolate or bit of rock. Beleglor stayed behind.

'Will you not look, Master Beleglor?' Elrond asked.

Beleglor shook his head. 'No, my lord. Maybe next year.'

* * *

The five Elves went into the forest, plucking sweets from branches, birds' nests and squirrel-holes, as the rest were in the House. Their sacks were soon bulging, as they had the woods all to themselves. Arwen wandered ahead to a stream with a small waterfall running into it. She knew there was a natural cave behind the waterfall, and she wondered if there was anything hidden there. She and her brothers had entered into a contest as to who could find the most sweets. 

Farothwen was getting into the spirit of the festival, carefully plucking a sweet from a nook in a nearby tree.

'Elrohir?' she asked.

'Yes?'

'Have you ever truly seen a spirit?'

He laughed. 'No, but I can tell you a story that Glorfindel told me as a child, about two spirits who are meant to haunt Imladris.'

Elladan's eyes lit up. 'Ooh, I love this one. You tell it so well. Come on, let's sit down.'

Farothwen, Glorohtar and Elladan sat on a fallen log while Elrohir sat on a tree stump across from them.

'All right, this story is not for the faint of heart. Are you ready?'

'Yes,' Glorohtar smiled.

Elrohir cleared his throat and began. 'A very long time ago, before the world was broken and Beleriand slipped beneath the seas, two Elves lived, and their names were Mordir and Dollwen. They were in love, and they were betrothed, to be married in the spring. Everyone was very excited, it had been a very sad time and this had given the people hope.

'Mordir and Dollwen were walking in the forests on the Equinox night, a night exactly like this. It was dark, but the sky was clear and the moon full. They were alone, the others feasting in the halls above. They walked alongside a river, just talking and planning their wedding. All of a sudden they heard a cry, which sounded like a maiden weeping. They found a maiden sitting on a rock beside the river crying. Dollwen touched her shoulder and asked her what was amiss. The maiden looked up, and it was not a maiden, but a monstrous spirit. She looked as if she had been dead for many years, her rotting flesh hanging limply off her bones, her eyes empty sockets, her teeth yellow and sharp. Her dress was of rags, and she smelled of the sea. There was a large hole in her rotting breast, caused by a sword, her death wound. Her bony hand seized Dollwen by the throat and dragged her away. Mordir could not stop her. Dollwen was screaming for him, but he could not help her as the spirit took her away into the night.

'He ran back to the halls and said that Dollwen had been taken. It was too late in the night to search for her, and some were suspicious. His story seemed to be false, and it did not make sense. By first light they began the search, and they searched all day and found nothing but a strip of fabric from Dollwen's red dress under a tree. Some were beginning to think that Mordir had killed her and buried her nearby, but it was by now too dark to start digging. They went back to the halls to eat, but they were interrupted by a terrible howling which sounded like a wounded animal or a woman screaming.'

At this point, Glorohtar jabbed Farothwen in the ribs, she being so involved in the story that she screamed, which also made Elladan shriek. Glorohtar and Elrohir started laughing. Farothwen hit Glorohtar in the side.

'Glorohtar!'

'Ow, you hit my bruise!'

Elrohir smiled and waited for the laughter to stop before he continued. 'Yes, it sounded just like that. Anyway, Mordir took off into the forests before anyone could catch up to him. The moon was covered by cloud, there was no stars and hardly any light. No one could see him, and he could not see anything but he followed the howling. A breeze was blowing in the trees. He could hear a creaking noise, and he didn't know what it was. He thought it was the trees, but suddenly the clouds parted, and the moon shone, and then he saw…' Elrohir masterfully trailed off.

'What did he see?' asked Farothwen eagerly.

Elrohir smiled and dropped his voice to a low whisper. 'He looked up and saw Dollwen, hanging by the neck from a tree, swaying in the breeze. He screamed and dropped to his knees, crying at her feet. The people who had found him there took that as a sign of guilt, and on that night they hanged him, right beside Dollwen. The next day they cut the bodies down and buried them under the hanging tree, as they called it.'

'Who hung Dollwen?' Glorohtar asked.

'The spirit, of course,' Elrohir replied. 'She had put a charm on the body for it not to be seen until the sun went down the next night, for on Equinox night the spirits have the gift of touch once again until dawn when they travel back to the Halls.'

'Why them? Was it deliberate or random?' Farothwen said.

'Deliberate,' Elrohir nodded. 'The spirit was a young maiden who died in the slayings of Alqualondë. Mordir and Dollwen were of Fingolfin's people and Mordir took part in the slayings. The spirit tried to kill as many as she could who took part, following the Noldor from Nargothrond down to Lindon and Eregion, and eventually even came here to Imladris. Everyone knew to avoid the rivers on Equinox night, because that's where she lived, to be close to the sea. Apparently in the early days of Imladris one Elf went missing. They never found his body but they say that on the next Equinox night they saw three bodies hanging from a tree in this very forest: Dollwen, Mordir, and the missing Elf. They say that the missing Elf was the one that killed her. You could see it from afar, as Dollwen wore a blood-coloured dress. And that it why we wear the same colour on Equinox night.'

Glorohtar looked around. 'Which tree?'

Elrohir grinned. 'The one you're sitting on. But you needn't fear, none have seen the spirit ever since the Elf went missing. They say that since she killed the one who killed her, she finally retired to the Halls in peace, her task done. And that's it.'

The three on the log burst into applause. 'Well done, brother,' said Elladan, who had heard the story a thousand times but still enjoyed it. 'You'll make a good story-teller yet.' He looked at Farothwen and Glorohtar. 'I wonder if you'll give us any children to frighten.'

Farothwen laughed as she stood up. 'You are not telling that story to my children, ever. Come on, let's go. I bet everyone else is far ahead of us in terms of sweets.'

* * *

Arwen edged closer to the waterfall, only lit by the light of the moon, a clear night. She could hear talk and laughter of the others behind her, Farothwen screaming as Glorohtar startled her intentionally. She very carefully walked across the rocks, careful not to slip, getting slightly wet from the spray of the waterfall. She ducked her head into the cave and smiled when she saw a sack of sweets sitting in a little alcove on the wall of the small cave. There was a note attached: 'May this be for the Lady Arwen, with love from Rhiwloth of the kitchens'. Arwen laughed. Rhiwloth was a maiden who worked in the kitchens, teaching her to cook when she was a girl, and she was the only one who knew of this cave. 

'Thank you, blessed Rhiwloth!' Arwen said, taking the sack and carefully making her way out. She could no longer see or hear the others ahead of her as she walked back into the forest. She heard a noise behind her on the bank.

When she turned around, she saw an orc inching towards her in the moonlight. She wanted to run, but then she realised that it was Elladan playing a trick on her. It was easy enough for him to follow her; his woodcraft was excellent.

She stood with a hand on her hip. 'Elladan, come on, take those clothes off. I know it's you.'

He seemed not to hear her, inching closer, his weapon raised in the moonlight, light shining off the metal.

'Elladan, what are you doing?'

No answer. Coming closer. Dried blood on the sword in the light.

Arwen's voice shook. 'Elladan, this isn't funny, stop it!'

His arm was drawn back, ready to strike.

'Elladan?'

The orc swung. Arwen ducked, turned and ran. 'Elladan!' she screamed. As she ran through the undergrowth, she tripped on a hidden root and fell with a howl of pain. She had hurt her ankle. The orc was right behind her. She landed on the grassy ground. The orc stood over her, weapon raised, ready to bring down. She screamed.

* * *

Elladan looked around. 'Where's Arwen?' 

Elrohir shrugged. 'I don't know.'

'She probably went ahead,' Glorohtar said.

'I hope not,' Elrohir replied. 'I don't want her to beat me.'

Farothwen chuckled, and they all went back to searching in silence. A sudden scream rent the air.

'Elladan!'

He froze. 'Arwen,' he whispered. Elrohir took off into the undergrowth, towards the stream, Glorohtar following. Elladan ran down, Farothwen behind. Elrohir listened for anything, not being able to see where his sister was. She screamed again. She was close.

'Arwen!' Elrohir cried. 'We're coming!'

Weaponless, Elladan picked up a large and heavy rock. It wasn't much, but he hoped it would help. Suddenly he saw her, sprawled on the ground, the orc above her, about to bring its sword down on her. Elladan's rock hit it on the head, which wasn't enough to knock it out, but it diverted its attention to Elladan. The orc charged forward, but Elrohir grabbed it in a stranglehold from behind and swiftly snapped its neck. Farothwen and Glorohtar carefully helped Arwen to her feet, Glorohtar supporting her as she could not put weight on her right foot. Elladan looked relieved.

'Arwen, are you hurt?'

'I hurt my ankle.' She tried to walk on it but she cried out in pain and nearly fell, Glorohtar steadying her. Elladan picked her up and carried her in his arms.

'I'm sorry I did not see you go,' he whispered.

'I should not have gone alone. I am sorry.'

'Do not be sorry, my sister. Just be glad that you are not hurt, or worse.'

They quickly went back to the House, unseen by everyone else, enjoying the festivities. Glorfindel was in the courtyard, telling the same story that Elrohir told. Glorohtar slipped into the crowd and quietly told Elenion that Arwen had hurt her ankle. They quickly and quietly came and met everyone in the healing rooms, where Arwen was sitting on one of the beds.

'Lady Arwen, what happened? Are you hurt badly?' Elenion asked.

'I fell over a tree root in the woods. It is not serious but it hurts very much.'

Elenion knelt down and very carefully took Arwen's red slipper off. Her ankle was already beginning to swell. He very gently examined it, making sure it wasn't broken, trying unsuccessfully not to hurt Arwen, who was holding Elrohir's hand.

'It is very tender,' Elenion said, 'but it should heal within a few days. Try not to walk on it, and it will be very swollen and bruised, so do not be alarmed.' He carefully wrapped a bandage around it and tied it up. He held his hand out to steady Arwen as she slipped herself off the table onto the ground.

'Can you walk?' Elladan asked.

Arwen nodded. 'I think so.' She limped out, using Elladan as a crutch. They slowly made their way to the courtyard, and Glorohtar got her a chair. Glorfindel was delighting in telling revellers back from the sweet hunt gruesome stories about spirits. This particular one involved a stray Elf who was disemboweled and dismembered by a vengeful spirit – usual children's fare, of course. Arwen had held onto her sweet bag the whole time and started eating the chocolate, saving the harder rock until later. Elrohir and Elenion stood in the background softly debating over whether to tell Elrond about the Orc, Elenion winning out, going to fetch Elrond.

Farothwen sat on the ground beside Arwen, listening to Glorfindel's macabre stories as everyone quietly munched on sweets. These stories were completely new to her, so she made the appropriate faces of horror and disgust. Arwen smiled as she watched her. This Equinox night was highly eventful after all.


	35. Search

A/N: Hi guys! I'm currently in the process of writing the last three chapters. After this chapter there will befour more, hopefully, then the story will be complete!  
This chapter contains some medical issues, so I'll give you a brief explanation: since Elrond and his Elves are master healers, I presume their medical knowledge in terms of basic first aid and containing infection to be the same as us modern-day humans. Since all his medical knowledge would concern mortals, I think he would know about disease is spread between them, particularly through hygiene or blood contact.  
Anyway, enjoy this chapter!

* * *

After the news of his daughter's near-slaying by a stray orc, Elrond knew he had to boost the numbers of guards and scouts on his borders until the orcs ran back into the mountains for the winter. He asked for volunteers to be assigned to the outposts. Glorohtar was one of the first to respond.

Farothwen was not pleased but she said nothing. Her love was just far too headstrong, as was she. And she knew that he would keep himself safe. Besides, the borders were not far away from them, and Elrond's power still held sway.

As autumn slowly turned into winter, Farothwen and Glorohtar both noticed that Beleglor was spending less and less time with them. Farothwen assumed that he was keeping with Lindir, with whom he was now fast friends. But Glorohtar knew better. A maiden had caught his eye. But which one, he did not know.

Things were quiet for Elenion and Farothwen. The Elves were reluctant to travel far from home, and nothing had been heard from the Dúnedain. Elenion had a whole winter of delicious boredom on his hands. He idly wondered if there were any books in the library that he had not yet read, or if he could help his cousins in the forge. No. Much as he loved his cousins, he was not that bored.

Glorohtar stood on the borders on his first watch, wrapped in a heavy cloak with beautiful patterns sewn about the throat and hem which were done for him by a weaver maiden, Faerien. He stood with a dagger at his belt and a spear in his hand, chatting with a fellow guard. It seemed as if there was not much happening today. Not even a small animal was crawling about in the undergrowth, looking for somewhere to spend the winter. Nothing.

A cry rent the air from further along. '_Rych!_' Glorohtar listened and he heard the sound of many hooves galloping towards them. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw three Dúnedain rangers come into view, but as they got closer, he saw the panic all over their faces.

'My lords, please, let us see Lord Elrond! We have been attacked!'

'What?' another guard asked.

'Our camp has been attacked by orcs. Many are injured. Please, hurry!'

'Go in!' The guard looked at Glorohtar. 'Go with them. See that they receive our aid.'

Glorohtar nodded, and ran along behind them. It was not far to the main courtyard. Elenion was already assisting the rangers when Glorohtar caught up to them. He carried a large pack filled to the brink. Elrond was disappearing in and out of rooms, stuffing two packs with myriad supplies.

'Gilgon!' he called to the stable master. 'Fetch me three steeds, we must ride to the camps at once.'

'Yes, my lord.'

'Elenion! Bring Farothwen, she will ride with us.'

Elenion nodded and raced off into the House. Glorohtar was shocked.

'My lord!'

Elrond looked at Glorohtar with urgency in his eyes. 'The Dúnedain are badly injured, we need to her to help us. She will be safe.'

Elrond left no room for argument as he disappeared back into the House with a flourish. Glorohtar stood alone in the courtyard. He had no idea why he questioned his lord's decision, for this was the path Farothwen had chosen.

Farothwen, however, had no such hesitations. She appeared in the courtyard with a satchel on her shoulder and she seemed confident. She brightened when she saw Glorohtar standing there. She had to leave so quickly she thought that she would not be able to say farewell to him.

As she strapped packs to her horse, Glorohtar took her hand.

'Be careful. I do not know of the things that attacked the rangers, or if they will come back,' he said.

'I will be. Lord Elrond and Elenion will be with me. I will be safe.' She embraced him. 'Tell Ada I said goodbye, and that I am sorry I had to leave so quickly.'

'When will you be back?' Glorohtar asked as he helped her on her horse.

'I do not know.'

They shared a look as she kicked her horse into action and rode away with the other five riders. He followed them to the borders and stood looking into the distance until he could see her no more.

* * *

It was a two day ride to the Dúnedain camp, a distance Elrond and Elenion could easily cover without rest. The others, however, did not have that luxury.

As the Dúnedain slept under the stars, Elrond worried. He worried that every hour lost would hasten the oncoming of death and possibly disease for the whole camp. He also worried about Farothwen, who was not safe from any sickness she could get from her people. He did not really want to bring her but he needed her help. He had no idea what awaited them but it sounded grave. He hoped they were not too late.

At last, early the next afternoon, Elrond could finally see the devastation for himself. He could hear the cries of lost children missing their parents, and the cries and screams of men and women alike cradling a dead loved one in their arms. On the edges of camp the bodies of the fallen, Orc and Dúnadan, lay strewn about the site, all hewn or mangled in some way. It had been nearly five days since the attack and the threat of disease was very real. There was not much to heal. Those who were seriously injured had already died from their wounds. All that remained were bodies and wounds that were at risk from infection.

Elrond looked around and assessed the situation. 'Elenion, you and I will prepare pyres. Farothwen, get some clean water and wash and dress whatever wounds you can. If you are in need, call me.'

Farothwen nodded, although she was overwhelmed by what she saw. She had never seen such a scale of horror in her life. Sadness greeted her everywhere she turned in the form of widows and widowers, orphans and the childless. As Elrond and Elenion took on the unenviable task of burning the bodies, Farothwen bade one of the Rangers who had ridden with her to fetch her some clean water from a pure stream, saving some to make an infusion for cleansing wounds with herbs brought from Imladris.

The line of people with wounds was long, but the line of those left behind to grieve at the pyres was longer. Farothwen's job was simple: cleaning wounds of dried blood and dirt and then bandaging them up but the sheer number of people who needed her aid was astounding. She heard a voice behind her say, 'Would you like me to help you?'

She turned to see Morandir, who was unscathed. She could see a small brown mark from where his head was cut when they first met. Farothwen gave him a bucket in which to wash and then gave him a basic tuition in first aid.

As Morandir clumsily tied his first bandage on, he said to Farothwen, 'I never had the chance to thank you.'

'For what?'

'For looking after me. The night Hirgon…'

Morandir's voice was emotional. Farothwen smiled.

'No need to thank me. I was just doing what I thought was right.'

They worked in silence for a while. Farothwen found herself studying the faces of all she saw intently, looking for one that appeared familiar - one of her kin. But she saw no face, nor indeed did she speak to many of them. They spoke a Mannish speech that she could not understand, although some did indeed speak her native Elvish. Elrond and Elenion could also speak the Mannish tongue, and Farothwen felt thoroughly left out and also frustrated. How could she ask them about her kin when they did not even speak the same language? She sighed. She could not even ask anyone to act as translator. Their time here was short and there was too much to do.

By the time the last of the injured was treated, the shortening sunlight was fading. Farothwen was exhausted and hungry, and the day had been tiring for all. Even the two Elves felt some semblance of fatigue. Morandir helped Farothwen rise the buckets and bowls she used and to clean and dispose of their used cloth.

'Come, have a bite to eat with me and then rest. The night is growing cold and you are tired.'

Farothwen nodded. 'Thank you for your hospitality, Morandir.'

Morandir thoughtfully informed the Elf-lords that Farothwen was to stay with him for the night, in warmer lodgings than the open sky could provide. Elrond gave his permission, and refused Morandir's offer of lodgings for themselves. They did not need to sleep as mortals did.

Morandir led Farothwen to a roomy tent in which there was a small fire blazing. Not much light, but warmth enough.

'Here,' he said, giving her a skin to wrap around herself, 'go in. I shall bring you some broth and bread, and some water.'

'Thank you, Morandir. You are very kind, even in times such as these.'

'You helped a lot of my people today. I cannot thank you enough.'

Farothwen went inside and sat on the floor by the fire, warming her hands. There was a gusty wind about and it was becoming quite cold. Luckily, there were enough dry sticks to feed the fire.

Suddenly an unearthly voice emerged from a dark corner behind Farothwen.

'Are you my daughter?'

Farothwen shrieked in fright and spun around. In the shadows, wrapped in a dark cloak sat an old woman, who must have been beautiful once. Her hair was grey and her face wrinkled, and Farothwen could see nothing in her eyes save the flicker of the firelight.

'No, my lady, I am not your daughter. I am sorry, I did not see you there.'

'Neither did I see you, my dear. I could hear your voice. You are no Elf?'

'No, I am…' Farothwen seemed reluctant to tell this woman she was a Dúnadan. 'Mortal.'

'You are learned in the Elf-speech, my dear.'

'As are you, my lady.'

Morandir then came in and was surprised to see the old woman. He spoke to her softly in the Mannish speech, and then took her arm and led her gently to the tent opposite. As he came back in, he sighed.

'I am sorry about that. I did not expect my mother to be here.'

'That lady is your mother?'

Morandir nodded sadly. A burden seemed to be placed upon his shoulders.

'Forgive her. She has lost her sight, and I fear her mind also. Did she ask if you were her daughter?'

'Yes.'

'She asks that of all she hears, even me if I do not announce my presence. I know not what she means. She has no daughter, only me.'

'She seemed to have her wits, to me at least. She can speak Elvish.'

'We used to speak more to the Elves in days long gone. I learned it from her and my father.'

'Where is your father?'

Morandir's face hardened. 'He died when I was young. They went away on some dangerous journey and left me behind. She came back without him.'

Farothwen silently ate her broth and bread and drank from her cup. It was definitely not what she was used to in Rivendell but anything was better than nothing. She asked nothing more of Morandir. When they had both eaten, he took their plates and bowls and went to wash them out. When he came back, he found Farothwen asleep by the fire, wrapped in skins and blankets. She was so exhausted that she did not even feel the kiss Morandir placed on her brow.

* * *

Morning came quickly, too quickly for Farothwen. She awoke at dawn and found everyone waiting for her. Elrond gave her a bowl of porridge and smiled.

'You did well, Farothwen. I am proud of you.'

'Thank you. Are there any more wounded?'

Elrond laughed. 'No, my child, you took care of them all yesterday. I thought it best that we start our journey home early while the sun still shines.'

Elenion noticed that Farothwen held disappointment in her face. She did not want to leave so quickly, but she did not protest.

'When shall we leave?' she asked quietly.

'As soon as we are ready. As soon as I see that all those we have treated are doing well and can look after themselves.'

Farothwen stayed behind while the Elves checked to see that there were no more injured. Morandir had woken to say farewell.

'Good morning,' he smiled. 'I wish you could stay longer.'

'As do I,' Farothwen replied. 'The search goes ever on, but now my hope is fading. I cannot find anyone, any clue at all. I cannot even speak to them.'

'I will speak for you. Tell me all you know.'

Farothwen told him all she could remember of her finding, both from her mother's note and her father's memory. She was interrupted by Elenion and Elrond's return.

'Are you ready to go home, Farothwen?' Elenion asked.

She nodded as her horse was brought to her by a Dúnadan, to whom she nodded her thanks. She looked at Morandir.

'I guess it is goodbye.'

'For now,' Morandir smiled. 'I would still like to see you, Farothwen. I count you as a dear friend.'

'And I you,' Farothwen replied, genuinely touched. 'I would like to come back, if I knew where you will be next!'

Morandir laughed. 'It's all right, I will come to you. But for now, goodbye.'

Morandir embraced her, wrapping her in his strong arms. He then helped her up onto her horse as the two Elves gracefully mounted. A few Dúnedain were there to see them off, including the Chieftain, Arahad, who seemed to share a great understanding with Elrond.

'My lords and lady,' he said, 'thank you kindly for assisting us with this unlooked for tragedy. You have my eternal gratitude.'

He placed his hand on his heart and bowed in the Elven gesture, which all three returned in kind.

'You and your kin are always welcome in Imladris, Lord Arahad,' Elrond replied. 'I am glad that we could help you. But we must ride home, our task over.'

The Dúnedain all bowed as the three rode away south, back to Rivendell. When they camped under the stars that night, a very important thought occurred to Farothwen. She had forgotten to tell Morandir the name her mother gave her.


	36. Journeys

The ride back in the morning was uneventful, and they were nearing the borders by midday. Farothwen took the opportunity to look at the forests that she had never noticed before. The leaves were falling in the gentle breeze and it was beautiful. Even though she had been here for a long time, the beauty of this place never failed to amaze her. She always discovered something new every day.

As the border guards came into view, Farothwen strained her eyes to see if Glorohtar was among them. One of the many disadvantages of being mortal was that she could not see as well as her family.

She smiled as she came closer. Sure enough, Glorohtar was waiting for her with a smile on his face. He had seen her much earlier.

As soon as her horse was close enough, Glorohtar grabbed the reins and caught Farothwen as she dismounted. The elf-lords continued straight ahead. He held her in a deep embrace.

'I did not expect you back so soon, my love.'

Farothwen's voice was muffled as Glorohtar held her tight to his chest. 'I did not expect to be back by now.' She laughed. 'Come, I was only away for a little while, love.'

'I know,' Glorohtar replied, brushing her hair off her face. 'But I missed you still.' He kissed her forehead.

'You look so tired,' he said.

'An understatement. I'm exhausted.'

'Then sleep, silly one. I will not be here much longer. I'll bring you some dinner when it is served.'

Farothwen nodded as she took her horse's reins and walked to the courtyard with her husband, telling him everything about her short but frenetic time with her people. As she spoke, the memories of Morandir's mother haunted her. There was something about her that disturbed her. There was more to the lady than Farothwen was led to believe.

* * *

Celebrían carefully folded up the letter in her hands and sighed. It was written in the graceful hand of her beloved father, whom she missed very much. She had shared many wonderful years with her husband and children, but there was still a part of her heart that yearned for Lórien, her home. She could not remember the last time she had visited her parents – the last long talk she had with her mother, the greatest of her people, or the last game of chess she played with her father, who always beat her with a kind word and a wicked smile. It was not the first time she had felt divided between lands.

A dark head appeared in the doorway. 'I hear you got a letter from _daeradar_.'

'Yes, Elrohir. He asked if I'd like to come home for a visit.'

Elrohir looked nervous. 'It is not safe, through the mountains. I would leave it for now, Nana, until we know it is safe to travel.'

Celebrían sighed. 'I know it is not safe, and I could not ask them to travel to see us. It would be doubly dangerous for them. Lothlórien would be vulnerable. I suppose I will have to wait for a little while.' She looked to her youngest son and smiled. 'I have seen the leaves fall thousands of times. I have my own family and this fair realm, both of which I love dearly, and yet I still desire the surroundings of home.'

'I understand, Nana.' Elrohir gazed out into the wilderness surrounding them. 'I know that when our time comes to go into the West, my heart will still be in this place. It is my home, and it will always be precious.'

'I know, my child. But do not worry, that is a little while yet. And I would not have you forget the forests, the rivers, the valley.'

'But, as you said, it is a while yet. Nana?'

'Yes, Elrohir?'

'When you go to Lórien, may I come along? I'd like to see _daeradar_ and _daernaneth_, and I want to make you that you will be all right on the journey.'

Celebrían smiled. 'Of course, Elrohir. It would be an honour to have my son escort me.' She kissed his cheek. 'Dinner will be served soon, go wash.'

Elrohir grinned. A fully grown, handsome and talented Elf who had seen many thousands of winters, and his mother was still reminding him to wash for dinner.

'Yes, Nana.'

* * *

Beleglor smiled at his daughter over the table at dinner. He had heard about her deeds from Elenion and he looked at her with pride in his eyes. Beleglor could see now that she had found her own path through life, and he could not ask for a better companion for her than Glorohtar. In a sense, he was relieved. Farothwen was no longer dependent on him. For the first time ever since he found her in the halls under the dark, dense trees, Beleglor could focus on himself. And that he did – his songs were becoming quite well known throughout Imladris and he finally found courage enough to mingle with other Elves without his family with him. His best friend, apart from Lindir, was the weaveress Faerien, a beautiful Noldo with sunshine in her eyes and laughter in her heart. When one day she fastened a blue cloak she had made specially for him around his shoulders, Beleglor came to realise that he loved her. Faerien was one of Celebrían's maidens, and her own love for the mysterious Woodlander minstrel did not escape the great lady's sight.

Farothwen ate silently. Glorohtar was on night duty and Beleglor was wrapped in daydream. She smiled. She could not remember seeing him this happy. She longed to know the cause, but he would tell her in due time. The nights were growing slightly colder, and Farothwen held her Faerien-made cloak tighter. The Elves didn't quite realise that the hall was awfully draughty. She had been feeling a little ill lately as well, which she attributed to the stress of recent events.

Beleglor walked Farothwen to the room she shared with Glorohtar, who was due back soon. She noticed that he was still very much in his reverie.

'Ada, what are you thinking about?' she asked with a hint of laughter.

He seemed to snap out of it. 'Nothing,' he smiled. 'Nothing that you should be concerned about anyway.'

She laughed. 'You're impossible. I do wish you wouldn't keep secrets from me.'

'I'm not keeping anything from you, my dear. Besides, I'm sure that there has been quite a few you've kept from me over the years.'

This caught Farothwen off guard. Beleglor smiled and tapped his nose.

'Ada knows.'

'Well, there is nothing, at the moment at least.'

'Of course not. Goodnight, you little imp.' Beleglor kissed her cheek.

'Imp? That's rather harsh!'

'Well, it is true.'

'Good_night_, Ada.'

Beleglor grinned as he left for his own room. Farothwen took a moment to admire the night sky, something she had sadly not done for a long time. The sky was clear, the moon full and the stars bright. She idly wondered what they were.

As she turned to go inside, she thought she heard someone call for her. She stopped to listen. Nothing. It must have been the wind. She shrugged and turned again. This time, she heard it.

'Farothwen!'

Glorohtar was running up the path towards her. His face looked upset.

'Glorohtar? What's wrong?'

Even in the fading lamplight, Farothwen could see that Glorohtar had been crying. He clutched a note in his hands.

'My father's dead.'

She knew not what to say. 'How?'

'Killed by Orcs leaving the borders. He was coming here.'

'Here? What for?'

Glorohtar seemed very shaken. He sighed. 'He was coming for us. What he would have done, I do not know, but I do know that he wished us harm.'

All Farothwen could do was draw her husband into a tight embrace. He shed a few more tears, but she did not know whether they were tears of sadness. Deep down he may have loved his father, but she did not know whether it was that, or of fear, or of relief. All she could do was hold him.

* * *

Farothwen did not feel any better after her night's sleep, or what little there was. Glorohtar's dreams were restless, and unlike mortals, he could not be brought out of it. But once he woke he seemed fine, much to Farothwen's relief.

Everyone was blissfully unaware of the incident, including Beleglor. He went on his early morning walk as per usual, which now included a stop to see Faerien, who was working at her loom. He escorted her to breakfast, where they were joined by a thoroughly dishevelled Farothwen and Glorohtar.

After breakfast, they told him what happened. He was taken aback.

'What are you going to do?'

'What can we do, Ada,' Farothwen replied. 'There is nothing to do.'

Glorohtar sighed. 'I want to go back there one day.'

Farothwen looked at him with surprise. 'To Mirkwood? You're not serious, are you? It is not safe. The shadow of Dol Guldur is growing.'

'I know, but it is our home. And I need to see my mother, I miss her.'

'If you go,' said Beleglor, 'you would need to go soon, while the orcs retreat into the mountains and before the passes shut with snow.'

'If we went, would you come, Ada?' Farothwen asked.

Beleglor shook his head. 'There is nothing for me there. I belong here. My heart is here.'

'I know, Ada,' Farothwen said.

'Would you go, Farothwen?'

'I would, if Glorohtar goes. I would go with him anywhere.'

'It is only just a thought,' Glorohtar said quickly. 'A thought borne out of grief and madness.'

'No, not madness,' Beleglor replied. 'Just take some time and think about it. There is always time. It is best not to rush into these things.'

Glorohtar nodded, but his mind was already made up. He wanted to go. But Farothwen was right, it was dangerous. But he was willing to take that risk. The question was, would she be willing?

* * *

Farothwen thought long and hard about Glorohtar's proposal. At first she dismissed it as an irrational thought, but now the idea was lodged firmly in her head. There was nothing to stop them; Hirogaer, their only but most deadly threat, was gone. Farothwen did miss her homeland, much as she loved Rivendell, and she knew that Glorohtar was awfully homesick. It was dangerous to travel, but as winter came closer, the threat of stray orcs and other wild things was lessened. It could be done. She saw how excited Glorohtar was as he was talking about it. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to go back. If they went now, they would miss the worst of the winter weather out in the Wilderland and would be safe in Mirkwood. Glorohtar missed his mother dearly, and Farothwen would like to meet her. After her unsettling experience with the Dúnedain, she needed to be somewhere safe and familiar – the hut in which she grew up.

She knew she had to go back. And she would.

* * *

A/N: It is with great pleasure that I announce the final chapter of Aníron was finished today. There are about three or four to go after this one. Thanks very much for reading, and all your lovely reviews, and I hope you enjoy the chapters to come. 


	37. Parting

Beleglor still was not completely happy when Glorohtar and Farothwen told him of their mutual decision – they were leaving for Mirkwood. But it was not his decision to make. He was also nervous for himself. He had to tell Farothwen the news of his own big decision. If she was travelling, it would have to wait until she came back.

They were busily preparing for the trip – taking food that would not perish easily, and plenty of extra clothing and blankets. Glorohtar was also busily studying and planning possible routes through the treacherous Misty Mountains with the help of Glorfindel. It was best to go through the passes before they were shut with snow – to go around the mountains would take far too long. Beleglor wanted his daughter back as soon as possible. Keeping his news to himself was growing harder by the second.

As Elenion helped Farothwen prepare some emergency medical supplies for her just in case, he noticed something was extremely different. She had a strange radiance about her. A different light was in her eyes, whose fire was now gone. A new clarity was in her voice. He did not know what had changed within her, although he knew she had been ill recently. Unfortunately he did not know as much about mortals as Lord Elrond. He would have to ask him later.

Elladan and Elrohir were recently returned from an expedition of their own, to where none knew. Elladan couldn't help but feel a strange sense of foreboding as he came to the courtyard, but he paid it no heed. If something were wrong with anyone, his parents would certainly know.

Finally, the eve of Farothwen and Glorohtar's departure came. They ate in the halls together as usual. They were seated with Beleglor and Faerien, and also with Lindir, Glorfindel and Erestor. Glorohtar could not help but notice Beleglor looking sidelong at Faerien with unspoken love in his eyes. So that was to be his news. Glorohtar smiled and hoped that Farothwen did not notice. He would hate to ruin the surprise.

Lindir looked over. 'Excited about going back?'

Glorohtar nodded. 'Much as I love this home, I do miss my first home.'

'As do we all,' Glorfindel said quietly, his eyes showing that he was thinking of a home far away, a long time ago.

'Well, tell us all about it when you get back,' said Erestor. 'I've never been to Mirkwood, I would love to hear about it.'

'Of course we will,' Farothwen replied. 'I might bring back some things I forgot to take when I first left.' She gave Glorohtar a wry smile.

'Of course, blame me for it,' he grinned.

Beleglor just shook his head. The remaining four Elves gave each other puzzled looks and shrugged. Woodlanders were a strange lot.

* * *

The next morning, Farothwen and Glorohtar awoke with the Sun. Farothwen sleepily packed the last of her bags as Glorohtar filled their water bottles from a cool stream below. She noticed someone was standing in the doorway. She looked up.

'May I come in?' Faerien stood in the early light, holding a parcel in her hands. Farothwen nodded.

'Of course.'

'I just came to wish you all speed and safety. And to give you this.' She held forward her parcel. Farothwen took it from her in astonishment and unwrapped it to let a hunter green riding gown unfold, its split skirts touching the ground. It also came with a pair of matching leggings.

'Faerien… this is beautiful. I know not what to say.'

'You need not say anything. Your joy is thanks enough.' Faerien smiled. 'Your father told me you needed a new one.'

'Indeed I did.' A sudden flash of memory came to Farothwen's mind, of how she lost her last riding dress. Suppressed memories of her torture in the mountains came flooding back. Her throat was dry. She was terrified of going back there, although Glorohtar was with her. But it was too late. She could not back out now.

'Farothwen? What is amiss?'

'Nothing,' she answered quickly. She smiled. 'I am fine.'

'Are you sure? You look pale.'

'I'm all right. Not much sleep. Glorohtar gets restless sometimes.'

Faerien laughed. 'Husbands.' She embraced Farothwen.

'Come back to us soon.' She touched Farothwen's cheek. 'Both of you.'

Farothwen smiled. 'We will, I promise. I have a feeling Ada's keeping something from me, and I'm desperate to find out what.'

Faerien almost had a smirk on her face. 'You will find out soon enough. Have a safe journey, my dear. Farewell for now.'

'Farewell.'

As Faerien left Farothwen's room, she prayed silently to the Valar to protect and keep the pair. Like her husband-to-be, she loved them as her children.

* * *

Farothwen stood in front of her looking-glass, fastening her mantle about her throat and adjusting her new dress. It was light yet warm, and still beautiful. As she did so, she looked at her scarred right hand. It had been almost two years since she received those wounds, and yet the scars would not fade. The memories were buried, as were the pain, but the scars would always remind her. No matter how long ago it was, or how happy she was, they would always be there. She dreaded explaining them to anyone new she met. She told no one except her family and Elrond and his family. She would not even tell Morandir, one who was dear as brother. If she were to have children, how could she explain it to them?

It was not the first time that she wished that she did not survive. Not the first time she wished that Elrohir left her for dead. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at herself in the glass and at her raised right hand, which attracted stares wherever she went.

Glorohtar came back in with the last of their packs to find Farothwen standing in exactly the same position. Tears were running down her face fast. Her scarred hand was shaking, as was her whole body. He silently cursed himself for being so selfish. He did not even think of Farothwen going back to the place where he nearly lost her. He did not think of her fear and her memories. After all this time, he still did not know the full extent of what she suffered. What little he did know still burned his heart.

She was so upset she did not even notice his strong arms snake around her. It was only as he held her to him that she sobbed.

'I'm so sorry, my sweet one,' he said softly. 'I would not have you go back to a place so evil. I would not have you relive that pain. Forgive me for making you do it in your memories. I would not have you hurt again.'

He held her close as she calmed down, not wanting her to leave his arms. He could not imagine how she felt at the moment. She finally let go, ready to speak.

'I made a promise to follow you,' Farothwen said. 'And I will hold to it. You need not fear for me. We will still go.'

'Do not go for me,' Glorohtar replied. 'Only go if you wish it.'

'I do wish it,' Farothwen replied, wiping her eyes.

Glorohtar gently kissed her brow. '_Be iest lin_. Everything is ready. Do you want to go now?'

Farothwen took a deep breath and nodded. 'I don't want to leave it too late.'

Glorohtar went out to the courtyard to retrieve their already packed horses. Farothwen followed and found a crowd of well-wishers there, waiting to farewell them.

Elrohir and Elladan practically raced each other to be the first one to embrace Farothwen. Elladan won, and enveloped Farothwen in a bear hug.

'Be careful, you. I want to be an uncle someday,' he said with a grin.

'Don't say that, I'll be tempted not to come back.'

Elrohir was a little more civilised, but still held Farothwen tight.

'Stay safe. The first rescue is free, the second one will cost you.'

Farothwen laughed. 'Don't get up to any mischief while I'm away.'

'We'll try,' Elrohir grinned.

She turned to see Elenion, who also embraced her.

'Bring me back a gift? And I want to see you come back with a full pack.'

Farothwen laughed. 'What gift would you like?'

Elenion grinned. 'A tall, beautiful blonde Woodland maiden.'

'I'll see what I can do!'

Glorfindel also hugged Farothwen, and whispered a message unheard in her ear. Erestor was a little more formal – a traditional farewell would have to do. Lindir also hugged her and wished her well, as he did with Glorohtar.

Arwen embraced her warmly and kissed her cheek.

'May the light of the Evenstar never wane on your path.'

'Not while she shines bright in Imladris yet,' Farothwen smiled.

As she wandered through the crowd, she found who she was looking for, Beleglor. He swept her off her feet in a tight embrace, his hand on her dark head.

'Promise me you'll be safe, sweetard. I could not bear almost losing you again,' he whispered.

'I promise, Ada. I will always come back to you.' She had tears in her eyes and she saw that Beleglor did as well. He kissed her brow.

'I love you, my daughter.'

'I love you too, Ada.'

They shared one last embrace before he and Faerien, who was by his side, went to Glorohtar. Beleglor spoke soft words to him, which Farothwen assumed was some humorous idle threat. Glorohtar was grinning.

Farothwen and Glorohtar turned around to see Elrond and Celebrían. They did not expect them to see them off. Elrond smiled.

'May your path never falter and may the stars guide you back to us. May the Valar bless you both and keep you safe. We will miss you until you come home,' he said with almost a tinge of worry in his voice.

He and Celebrían bowed and extended their hands in the traditional farewell. Farothwen and Glorohtar did the same.

'The blessings of all free folk, Elven and mortal, will go with you. May you go, and return, with all due speed. There is always someone waiting for you,' Celebrían said with a smile.

She and Elrond embraced both of them. As Glorohtar helped Farothwen mount her horse, Elrohir came up to her, holding a white daisy in his hand and gave it to her.

'Come back soon. I mean it.' He kissed her scarred hand.

'We will, I promise.' She threaded the stem of the daisy into her braided hair. She looked back at her father. He stood with tears in his eyes, with Faerien by his side, her arm holding onto his. She smiled at him.

Glorohtar mounted his own horse and looked at Farothwen. 'Are you ready?'

Farothwen smiled. 'Yes.'

She turned and waved at everyone, all whom she loved, then she and Glorohtar kicked off, riding into the unknown.

* * *

The rest of the day passed slowly for Beleglor. Even though Faerien was with him, he could not stop thinking about how quiet it was in Rivendell without his daughter. Her and Glorohtar's absence was glaring at him everywhere he went, although Faerien was doing her best to distract him. In the afternoon, Lindir came and took Beleglor off her hands. Lindir knew that Beleglor could not resist music.

It was a beautiful evening, cool and clear. After the rest of the Elves left the dining hall, Faerien took Beleglor to the courtyard near his part of the House. He was in much better spirits after many reassurances.

'Are you all right, my love?' she asked him.

'Yes. I worry needlessly, I know. But I cannot help it.'

'I do not blame you. You love them both as if they were your own. It is natural to be worried. But they are grown now, seeking their own lives together. You have raised her to be a beautiful woman. You must let her go. Your task is done. You need to care for yourself now.'

Beleglor smiled. 'You are partly right. But now my task is to be a husband, and a husband must care for his wife.'

'That is true, too.' Faerien stood and walked to the middle of the leaf-covered courtyard, her dress sweeping behind her. She held her hand out.

'What are you doing?' Beleglor asked, amused.

'Dance with me.'

'What?'

'Dance with me,' Faerien repeated, albeit a little more forcefully. Beleglor was bemused this time, but he stood and took her hand. Faerien whirled with him under the moonlight, the air filled with their laughter as he let all his worries melt away. For once he thought of himself, and of his beloved. As he kissed Faerien, he realised that his time as Farothwen's father was over. His time as Beleglor of Mirkwood was only just beginning.


	38. Gurth

A/N: This is a sad one, folks! Herein will be unexpected events and some secrets revealed. It's also got some dark themes, so be prepared. After this there are two more chapters plus an epilogue. I hope you enjoy, and thank you again for reading.

* * *

Dawn came. It was just like any other dawn – cool, quiet and still. The colours in the sky were starting to melt into pure gold as the sun rose above the horizon. The view over the valleys was beautiful, from the white foam of the rushing streams to the red, brown and gold of the leaves falling from the trees. Birdsong began in the nests high up, and there was nothing to disturb this tranquil. Most were still sleeping. The guard around the borders had been extremely relaxed. The fear had gone for the winter. The distant mountains were covered in snow. Everything was as it should be in the hidden valley, the last homely house east of the sea.

No one was prepared for the screams that were about to rip that peace apart.

'Help!' a lone, anguished, desperate voice cried. 'Help!'

No answer.

He rode his horse hard and fast, his mind on nothing else but getting to safety. He carried his precious one in his arms. He was getting closer, and closer. He prayed she could be saved.

He was home. He stopped, dismounted and gathered the bundle in his arms. He ran as fast as he could up the stairs.

'Help!' Tears were streaming down his face. His voice was choked. 'Lord Elrond! Help me!'

Elves came scurrying out in their nightwear to see what was going on, Elrond the first among them. When he saw who it was that was screaming for his help, his heart plummeted. He pushed his way through the shocked crowd.

'Glorohtar!'

Glorohtar sank to his knees. He carried Farothwen in his arms, wrapped in her cloak. He held her tightly. Her body was limp and her eyes were closed.

Elrond unwrapped the cloak and surveyed what he found with horror.

A crudely made arrow was embedded in her chest, blood running down from the wound. The shaft was snapped off, but Elrond did not need to see the feathers to know it was of orc-make. He checked Farothwen. She was not breathing. Her heart was not beating. Her skin was cold.

Glorohtar was too late. She was dead.

Glorohtar looked to Elrond for some answer, some hope. He was covered in cuts and scratches, and splashes of dark blood. All Elrond could do was shake his head. All colour drained from Glorohtar's face as he gathered Farothwen to his chest and wept.

Beleglor was among the last to come. The Elves all stood around him and whispered, or wept. Glorohtar's cries grew louder. Beleglor had no idea of what he faced once he pushed his way through the crowd, which was starting to clear out of respect for Glorohtar.

All he could do when he saw the body of his daughter lying in the arms of her husband was give a choked cry, a scream that never made it. His face grew ashen as he looked to Glorohtar for answers. He was too hysterical to give any as he cradled Farothwen. All he could manage was to whisper over and over again, 'I'm so sorry, Ada. I'm so sorry.'

As a father sat and cried for his daughter, far away in the early sunlight a son cried for his mother, who only had one name on her dying lips, that of her daughter – Ilirdin.

* * *

That afternoon, as soon as Beleglor and Glorohtar were ready, Farothwen was prepared for burial. Elenion gently took her and laid her out on the table, where he removed the arrow that killed her instantly. It struck her heart.

Arwen and Celebrían took it upon themselves to dress her, which they did with Faerien's help. Faerien was weeping openly at the loss of one dear as daughter. Faerien deeply regretted not telling Farothwen of her and Beleglor's impending marriage; she would have loved Farothwen to think of her as her mother.

The decision to dress Farothwen in her wedding gown was the only easy decision of the day. It symbolised all they loved about her, and it brought back the happiest memories of her. Even in death, she still looked beautiful in it.

Arwen undid Farothwen's riding braids and set her hair loose about her shoulders. Farothwen still wore the white daisy Elrohir gave her in her hair, and Arwen let it be. As Celebrían smoothed the last of Farothwen's locks into place under her silver circlet, she leant down to kiss her brow, a tear sliding down her cheek. Arwen and Faerien both kissed her goodbye. All who wished to see her before her sunset burial were allowed to. Lindir came, as did Glorfindel and Erestor, and all of Celebrían's maidens. Elrond was there also.

Lindir was the last to say farewell. He kissed her, and whispered soft words that none heard. Celebrían thought she also heard him singing to her. He left, and there was only Celebrían, Arwen, Faerien, Elenion and Elrond remaining.

Elenion said nothing, but took her hand and kissed her. He would miss her company greatly.

Elrond softly whispered a prayer for her and kissed her brow. He would only hope that she kept her promise to him – that she would find his brother and pass on his message of love.

As he left to prepare for the burial and the feast afterwards, he stopped to wonder if he was the only one to know of Farothwen's secret. He did not even think that she herself knew it, otherwise she never would have left. He too, like Glorohtar, saw the dark haired, blue eyed Elf maiden dancing in the woods in his dreams. But when he asked her name, she said she had none. Now he understood why. She never lived.

* * *

Farothwen's burial took place at sunset, under a large oak tree behind the yard the party for her wedding was held in. Glorohtar and Beleglor needed her to stay close to home, and Elrond did everything he could to oblige them.

Elladan and Elrohir themselves insisted on building the stretcher on which Farothwen would be placed. This was ready, as was the stone that would mark her grave. It said, very simply: 'Ilirdin Farothwen – Beloved of all who knew her.' It bore her Adûnaic name, at both Glorohtar's and Beleglor's request.

When the dreaded sunset eventually came, only those who knew her best were present – Elrond and his family, Beleglor, Glorohtar and Faerien, Elenion, Lindir, Erestor and Glorfindel. She lay on a stone plinth nearby, ready for her final resting place.

The twins were the first to say goodbye. They wept, spoke softly and kissed her. Elrohir was taking this particularly hard, especially when he saw that Farothwen still wore his flower, which by now was crushed and shrunken. He kissed her scarred hand and held it.

'I'm sorry I could not save you this time,' he whispered.

Elladan gently touched her hair as he stood back to let Glorohtar and Beleglor say their farewells. This was the hardest part of all.

Beleglor was first. He was crying, but his words to his daughter could be heard as he took her hand.

'My daughter, my beloved,' he said, recalling the words he wrote to her so many years ago. 'I did not expect you to leave me so soon. You may have been with me only but a little while, but you will always be my daughter. I loved you from the first moment you looked at me with those green eyes of yours, and I will love you still unto the ending of the world. I can only pray that you are at peace, with your kin, and that we will meet again one day.' He gently kissed her cheek and kissed the hand he held and then let go, where he was comforted in Faerien's arms.

Glorohtar was unable to speak. He cradled Farothwen in his arms once again, unwilling to let her go. He stayed like that for a good while, until Elrohir gently laid his hand on his shoulder. Glorohtar knew that his time with her was over. He knew this day was to come, but only when Farothwen was an old and fragile woman after many happy years together, not in the prime of her life when they had been together only a short while. Glorohtar laid her back down, smoothed her hair, and gave her one last kiss on her cold lips. It was time.

Beleglor, Glorohtar, Elladan and Elrohir stood either side and picked her up, ready for the short but agonising walk to her waiting mound. Celebrían, Arwen and Faerien stood ready to receive her, the tradition being that women cared for the dead.

When the men had reached the mound, Celebrían stood on one side, Arwen and Faerien on the other, and Farothwen was safely delivered into their hands. They gently placed her inside the mound and stood by her side, bowing their heads. As was tradition, it was the lord's turn to speak.

Elrond sighed as he took on his unenviable task. 'There is nothing that has been unsaid about this day. We all knew it would come, as Farothwen was blessed with the gift of mortality, but we all prayed it would not come so soon. Farothwen was a beautiful woman, who showed tremendous strength in the face of adversity. When she came to us, battered and broken, whether she would survive was uncertain, but survive she certainly did. She both gave and received love easily, and could never fail to raise a smile or laugh. We loved her dearly, and shall miss her even more. We pray to Ilúvatar to keep his blessed child and for those who came before her to watch over her, forever more.'

Everyone held a bunch of flowers and blossoms in their hands, and let them fall upon Farothwen's body. Elladan and Elrohir held bouquets of white daisies. They all silently bowed to her, and said their own prayers in their hearts.

The burial was over, and the feast was about to commence. Lindir and Elenion had volunteered themselves for the horrible task of filling in Farothwen's mound, which they did as carefully but as quickly as possible.

Everyone else went into the hall and sat with their fellows, waiting for the feast to start. Before they ate, Elrond stood to say a quick speech.

'As you all know, today we lost one who was dear to us all. Hail Farothwen, daughter of Beleglor, wife of Glorohtar! She will live forever in our hearts.'

'Hail!' the Elves cried, and they all drank to her, and the sombre feast started. Glorohtar drank little and ate even less, picking at his food. Beleglor was too lost in his own misery to notice. Faerien was worried about both of them. A short time later, Beleglor looked up and noticed Glorohtar was gone. He sighed. He had to speak to him.

* * *

Beleglor found Glorohtar exactly where he expected – at Farothwen's mound. He knelt near the fresh earth, and his fingers gently brushed the engraved stone bearing her name.

Glorohtar looked up, and Beleglor looked slightly menacing in the dim light.

'I know why you have come. You blame me for her death. For not protecting her.'

'I did, at first,' Beleglor replied. 'But then again, I was not there. I do not know what happened.'

'It happened so quickly. I did not even hear the bow string. It was only when it flew past me that I saw it strike her. She fell immediately. There were six of them in the forest. I hunted them all down and slew them. I rode through the night to get her back here, but then I knew it was already too late.'

'Elrond told me that it was instant,' Beleglor said quietly. 'She did not suffer. She was not in pain. There was nothing you could have done.'

Tears welled in Glorohtar's eyes. 'If only I did not convince her, if only I did not say anything in the first place…'

Beleglor's heart filled with pity, and his own sadness. He was glad that Faerien sensed his anger and his blame earlier in the day and did not allow him to do anything rash. He did love Glorohtar, and he knew in his heart that he was not at fault. He did not want to lose him as well.

Beleglor knelt beside Glorohtar and embraced him, his own grief mingling with Glorohtar's. They wept together for the one they both loved more than anything else, even life.


	39. Following

In the days following Farothwen's death, Glorohtar was extremely distraught. He spent every spare moment at her graveside, telling her constantly how much he missed and loved her. He had not rested ever since the night before they left for Mirkwood. He did not come to eat with the others. He barely saw anyone, except perhaps Beleglor, who mainly sought solace with Faerien. Elrohir had been keeping an eye on him and he was extremely concerned. He spoke with his brother and sister.

'He's grieving for her, Elrohir,' Arwen said. 'Let him be for now. As time goes on, his pain will lessen. She was his wife and he loved her. You would act no differently if someone you loved were to die.'

'I know, but to see him in such pain…' Elrohir left his sentence unsaid, but Elladan and Arwen knew what he meant. He was worried that Glorohtar would grieve himself to death.

'He still has Beleglor and Faerien,' Elladan said. 'I do not think he will die.'

'I am not so sure. I remember what he said at their wedding.' Elrohir sighed. 'He said that he would follow her beyond the circles of the world. When she died, he too would die as a mortal soul. And I've never known him to not keep his word,' he said grimly.

'I know that we all are fond of Glorohtar, but it is his decision in the end,' Arwen said quietly. 'Should he choose to die to be with her, he will.'

'But he is an Elf, Arwen, we do not die!' Elladan cried.

'But he does not have our choice, to choose to be mortal or immortal. You also cannot choose with whom you fall in love. What if, one day, one of you fell in love with a mortal maiden? What choice would you make then?'

Even though they did not want to admit it, Elladan and Elrohir knew that Arwen was right. If Glorohtar chose to die away from the world, to follow her into eternity, then nothing could be done to stop him.

* * *

It was afternoon on the fifth day since Farothwen's death, and Glorohtar finally allowed himself to leave their room, where he had confined himself all that time. There was one last thing he had to do. He owed it to Beleglor, at least.

He took a deep breath, and found Beleglor across the path, walking with Lindir. Beleglor's face fell when he saw him. His blue eyes had lost all life and his skin was deathly pale. He had barely eaten or had any rest for days. Beleglor embraced him tightly as a father would his son. He too was deeply worried.

'I'm going away, Ada,' Glorohtar whispered.

'Where?'

'I do not know where my path will take me. My Straight Road is bent now.'

Beleglor's heart sank. 'Please don't leave me, Glorohtar.'

'I'm sorry, Ada, but I must. I cannot bear a minute more.'

'Will you not stay for me? For all who love you?'

'I promised her I would follow her wherever she went. I could not break my word to her now.'

Beleglor cried, but he understood. Even though he was dreading it in the light of Farothwen's death, he knew that Glorohtar would choose this. He drew back a kissed Glorohtar's brow, pushing a lock of hair out of his face.

'I love you, my son, but it is your choice. When you find her, never let her go again.'

'I could never endure her leaving me for a second time. I will find her. I will never leave her side.'

He embraced Beleglor again, allowing tears to fall.

'Goodbye, Ada. I love you.'

'Goodbye, my son.'

As Glorohtar left him, Beleglor wept again. He had already lost his daughter. Now he was losing his son.

* * *

After dinner, in the dim twilight, Elrohir went for a walk around the grounds. So much had been happening over the past few days that he did not know what was going on anymore. He did not want to walk past Farothwen's grave, but he felt that he must. He had not once in the days since she was buried.

As he came around the corner, he could make out an unfamiliar shape in the gloom, but could not see it terribly well. As he got closer, his eyes widened in horror as he realised what it was.

Glorohtar was lying beside Farothwen's grave, dressed in his wedding robes. In his heart Elrohir knew he was already dead, but he did not want to lose hope. He caught sight of Elrond on the pathways.

'Ada! Ada! Come here, quickly!'

'What is it?'

Elrond ran over to Elrohir and saw Glorohtar lying there. He was not surprised, but he was saddened nonetheless.

'Can we do anything to help him?' Elrohir asked.

'We are too late. His spirit has already left for the Halls, but where it will dwell, none can say, I can only hope it goes to the Halls of Men.'

'But surely we must bury him next to her.'

'There is no need.' Elrond pointed. 'Look.'

Grass vines were starting to wind their way around Glorohtar's hands and feet, and around his body.

'We were born of the earth, and the earth will always take care of her children when there is no one else. She will bury him for us, Elrohir. She will keep him safe.'

Elrond laid a hand on Glorohtar's cold brow and whispered a blessing.

'There is nothing more we can do, Elrohir.'

'What about Beleglor and Faerien? Surely they must know.'

Elrond looked grim. 'I'm sure they already do. Glorohtar would not have left without a farewell.'


	40. Valinor

By morning, news of Glorohtar's death had spread throughout the House, and everyone was deeply saddened, but comforted by the fact that he was now with his wife. A stone had been made during the night and placed on his grave in the morning. It read simply, 'Glorohtar – Faithful and loved to the very end'.

By morning, the earth had completely covered Glorohtar's body, keeping him safe from the elements and from scavengers. She would not suffer one of her children to be defiled in such a way. Many people came throughout the day to pay their respects, including Beleglor once again. He was glad they were together again and had resigned himself to this day, but it did not make it any easier. He planted the seeds of flowers on their mounds, new lives to come from their deaths.

As he sat with them once again, with his ever faithful and beloved Faerien by his side, he knew he had his own decision to make. Skilled as he was, Lord Elrond and his beautiful House could not heal Beleglor's deep wounds. He knew that he had another path of his own to tread.

* * *

Days turned into weeks, but they were all a blur in Beleglor's eyes. He lost his daughter and his son so close together there was not time to register it. The shock had worn off, and the grief began. His wounds were growing deeper. He had the love of his Faerien, but he feared that it was not enough. He had to leave.

On the third week marking Farothwen's death, Beleglor and Faerien said farewell to their closest and most beloved friends. Once again, Elrond and his family were there to see them off.

'Master Elrond,' Beleglor said slowly. 'I cannot thank you enough for all the love and care you have shown us all, whether in life or death. Your generous hospitality, your aid, your warmth, your love, everything you have done for us.'

'It was all my pleasure, Master Beleglor, and I would give it all freely again. Our short time with your children brought us all happiness and joy, and I thank you and them for that. I just wished that we would have parted differently.'

'I'm sure we all wish that.'

Beleglor and Faerien said goodbye to all who turned out to wish them well. They were departing for the Grey Havens, and sailing across the Sea beyond them. Beleglor sought the healing of the Undying Lands, the Elvenhome that was his home a long time ago. He had come to Middle-earth to avenge the loss of his people, slaughtered by the Noldor, but found no peace when their whole race fell. He lived alone in Mirkwood for many thousands of years as a minstrel, but then his life changed forever when he found the small parcel by the King's Halls. He knew he could only achieve peace when he came back to his homeland, his hatred of the Noldor vanished. He knew that, returning with his Noldorin wife-to-be, he was a completely different person to that vengeful, bitter, angry one he was when he first came to the Eastern shores.

Their two horses were waiting. Beleglor and his best friend Lindir embraced once more, and then Beleglor mounted his horse, his eyes saying so many things he never had time to say to everyone who was there. Finally, he turned away, and he and Faerien started their long journey to their life together beyond the Sea.


	41. Epilogue

Epilogue

The House was still sombre after dealing with so many tragedies so close together. Time normally passed slowly in an Elven realm, but it passed even more slowly in Rivendell in the weeks past. Beleglor had left a few days ago, and it was coming up to a month since a devastated Glorohtar screamed for help on that awful dawn. Things were only just coming back to a semblance of normal as winter finally came in full force. It was eerily quiet, all the animals in their hideaways and no one coming or going. No one dared venture outside the borders now.

The naked trees made it easier to see the visitor who came speeding down the valley on his fast steed. His errand was for Lord Elrond, he said, with the utmost haste.

Elrond was surprised to see the Dúnadan racing towards him, breathless.

'Morandir! What are you doing-'

Morandir stopped, panting. He lay his hands on Elrond's shoulders.

'What was Farothwen's name at birth?'

'Morandir, I'm sorry, but Farothwen's-'

He had no time for an explanation. 'What is it? Do you know?'

'It is Ilirdin.'

Morandir's face lit up in a mixture of shock and excitement. 'So it is true! I was wrong all these years. She had not lost her mind. She did have a daughter. I do have a sister!' In his eyes was pure joy. 'Where is she? Where is my sister?'

Morandir's happiness made Elrond's news all the harder to deliver. 'Morandir, please come with me. I need to tell you something.'

His face instantly fell. 'What is it? What is wrong?'

Elrond did not answer as he slowly led Morandir to the graves. He wondered whether he was doing the right thing by letting his know this way, but he could not find the words to tell the Ranger that his lost sister and a woman he loved in her own right was dead.

Morandir took one look at the gravestones and started shaking his head. 'No. No. It cannot be. My sister is not dead. Farothwen is not dead!' He sank to his knees as tears ran down his cheeks. 'She's not dead.'

'I'm so sorry, Morandir.'

'When did it happen? What happened to her?'

'She came back to us on this day four weeks ago. She and Glorohtar were journeying to their home in Mirkwood. They were ambushed by an Orc patrol. She died instantly.'

Morandir looked at Glorohtar's stone. 'And what of him?'

'He died but a few days after her. He died of a broken heart.'

'Her father?'

'He has sought the Havens. His wounds were too deep to heal.'

Morandir sighed deeply. 'After all these years I could have had with her, I should have had with her. Why couldn't she have told me the truth? Why did she keep my sister from me until her dying day?'

Elrond placed a hand on his shoulder. 'I cannot answer those questions, Morandir. Only your mother could, and it seems that she finally told you the truth too late.'

'The one question I cannot answer is how Farothwen came to be here, when my mother left her in Mirkwood.'

'I can answer that for you, if you like. But tell me of how Farothwen came to be there. That part had plagued Beleglor all of her life.'

'My mother and father had left to go to Laketown. They knew they could not take me, as I was only four years old at the time. They left me with my mother's parents. My mother did not realise she was with child until they were far into the wilderness. Thankfully Farothwen waited until Laketown to be born. I still do not know why they were in Laketown, apart from the fact that my mother had some relations there. On their way back home, they took a dangerous wrong path in the woods, and my father was shot and killed by Orcs. My mother fled to Mirkwood. She knew she could not journey back with Farothwen alone, it was much too dangerous. She also knew that the Ranger way of life was also fraught with peril, so she decided Farothwen would be safer with the Elves. She left her with nothing but a note and a name. I am honoured that Beleglor chose to keep the name my mother gave her.'

'How did you come to know that Farothwen was your sister?'

'When my mother was telling me this story, she described what she remembered of her daughter. She had lost her sight in the last few years of her life, but she still remembered. As soon as she described her eyes, I knew that it had to be Farothwen. It just had to be.'

Elrond nodded. 'Now I will tell you how Farothwen ended up in Imladris. She was persecuted in Mirkwood all of her life. The main instigator was a man called Hirogaer. And it did not help Farothwen when she married his son.'

'Hirogaer was Glorohtar's father?'

'Yes, and when he found out, he hurt her, and bade her to leave Mirkwood and not return under pain of death. She was scared and lost, and somehow ended up in the caves of the Misty Mountains, where she was tortured horribly by the Orcs that lived there. That was how she came to have those scars. My son found her and brought her back here, and somehow Glorohtar and Beleglor found us here as well.'

Morandir sighed. 'She suffered so much. And to think that she was so close to us. If only my mother had not lost her sight – she would have recognised her.'

'Farothwen met your mother?'

'Only briefly, but yes. There are so many 'if onlys', but they are not going to bring my sister back to me. All I can do is remember the time I did have with her, and hope that one day we will meet again, and finally I can tell her that I am her brother.'

'You will meet again, and you can tell her the truth. I'm sure she would have been very proud to have you as her brother.'

Morandir smiled slightly. 'I can only hope.'

Elrond left him to spend time with his sister alone. He heard Morandir tell her in hushed tones that he was indeed her brother. Elrond watched from a distance. He had been feeling Morandir's pain for many thousands of years since the death of his own brother.

Even after spending many lifetimes of Men watching them die much too soon either by the sword or time, Elrond was still not sure whether mortality was truly a gift. But he was sure that love itself was a gift, one both Farothwen and Glorohtar freely gave and received. Even though their lives were indeed short, none could ask for such a great gift as the love they gave each other.

He smiled, comforted by that though. Even though they had lives half lived, their love was fully given.

THE END

* * *

A/N: So, that's it! It is with great pleasure that I officially announce Aníron Algarbach complete! Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, previewed, criticised and encouraged me to surgically remove this story over its three-year life. I hope you all enjoyed it and had a laugh and maybe felt moved. If I managed to get any emotional reaction out of you, thenthe gruelling process in writing my first novel-length story, then it was all worth it. Thank you all, and goodnight! 


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